MCN: The Other Side of the Mirror
by Kafka'sdragon
Summary: Negi-sensei's students have graduated to high school and find themselves in the center as another "Great War" brews. New teacher Phillip Markham must prepare them for both battle and finals. Continues Markham Chronicles Negima.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is a continuation of the story started in Markham Chronicles Negima. For those of you who haven't read that and the related Hiro's Lament, and I know there must be one or two, I am providing a brief summary.**

**Phillip Markham Jr., retired from the US Air Force and became a teacher. He was offered the chance to teach English at a girls' high school in Mahora, and was assigned Professor Springfield's former class for home room. Although initially unaware of magic, he discovered its existence and agreed to join the headmaster in defending the school and students from an expected attack by a group of mages bent on world domination, the Cabal Magicus.**

**The Cabal was a behind the scenes player during the Great War but are now in the forefront of actions in both this and the Magic Worlds. They attempted to assassinate Evangeline, whom they hired to kill the Thousand Master years ago, and believe they succeeded. The vampire is in hiding, pretending to be a new teacher at the Middle School.**

**Several magic teachers were sent out to the field, including Takamichi. While investigating a lead about Fate Averruncus, the teacher found out the enemy mage is actually a golem. After defeating golem's creator, Takamichi returned to Mahora with a second golem that appears to be a younger, less powerful, version of Fate.**

**The Cabal is also believed to be behind the attack upon the Speaker of the Council of Mages though the purpose for it isn't clear. As a result of this, the headmaster has sent Prof Akashi and an agent named Oishi, on a fact finding mission to the Magic World.**

**While on the class trip to California, Markham and his students had several adventures that culminated in an attack by a wendigo. The creature was defeated but now everyone in the class is aware of magic and that Zazie Rainyday can turn into a dragon.**

**For his part, Negi has moved into the teacher's dorm with Markham as his roommate. He has a new group of students and is encountering problems being an 11 year old teacher of a bunch of 12 year old girls. During their trip to Hawaii, he found out that 5 of his students are being trained by Takane Goodman and Mei Sakura. The self-proclaimed Negi Defense Force aided him in retrieving a legendary artifact.**

**I have used ideas and situations from several stories for both background and character development. Markham Jr., while my OC, was drawn from the Phillip Markham/Arno Dali character in an unpublished novel called 'Exile to Earth.' A lot of material I use for Zazie Rainyday was developed in Ambrant Arandel's 'Child of Mine' and TFKeyes 'The Wonders of Love.' I have used several elements from these along with ReddyRedWolf's 'Love Sara' and Tsutomu Teruko's 'Pactum Factum' to add extra dimension to the various students. This is not to say that this story is somehow a continuation of those others. I do however reference events from them and from stories by my fellow Train Station collaborators (or perhaps that should be conspirators?). Please enjoy and if you're feeling particularly generous, send a review. Praise, suggestions and condemnation are equally accepted (though I prefer the first two).**

**Disclaimer: Negima belongs to Ken Akamatsu and this story is a piece of fanfiction that has neither connection to nor the consent of Akamatsu-san. **

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', "**spells**".

**You Can't Go Home Again**

_It was the hour of twilight on a soft spring day toward the end of April in the year of Our Lord … _- Thomas Wolfe

Kansai Temple, Kyoto

The sentry paced back and forth atop the wall, each stride carefully measured but flowing naturally. A dark-colored robe made her difficult to see in the wane moonlight, but the white-feathered ends of a dozen arrows sticking above her shoulder, were clearly visible. Once there had been no need to post guards, being a temple alone had been sufficient protection, but that had changed one evening the previous year.

Strangers had crept in during the middle of the night and taken everyone, including the head of the association, by surprise. The intruders had kidnapped the heir and had used the girl's power to release the demon Sukuna from its inter-dimensional prison. Had not the son of the famed Thousand Master and the boy's partners been there, they might have succeeded in their plan.

But Springfield-sama had been there, the plotters had been stopped and the demon resealed. The ringleader was safely incarcerated and her fellows scattered to the winds. The sentry's thoughts were interrupted as a pebble struck the walkway with a faint tap. Instantly, the guard whirled about with bow in hand and arrow knocked but found nothing to shoot at.

Cautiously the woman scanned the wall and surrounding rooftops but could make out no shapes in the gloom. Checking the ground, she found the small stone that was the source of the sound. Behind her, she heard the swish of fabric and started to spin, but 

moved too slowly as the katana's hilt struck the back of her head. The robed sentry fell forward, but a slender figure caught her by the waist and slowly lowered her to the ground.

The attacker quickly bound and gagged the guard; no need to slay the now helpless girl and risk rousing the entire association's wrath. The idea was to survive long enough to issue the challenge and bring the hanyo maid to Kyoto. "First, Amagasaki-san has to be freed and then …," the cloaked intruder paused, "then I deal with sempai." Leaving as quietly as a shadow, the figure melted into the night.

* * *

Somewhere over the North Pacific

The window shades were down, plunging the cabin of the jumbo jet in darkness. Phillip Markham stared at the backlit display of his cell phone and watched as the clock advanced after crossing the International Date Line. In the blink of an eye, a day vanished as Friday, April 23rd, became Saturday, April 24th. One could consider it magical, if one wasn't a teacher at Mahora. The American sighed as he put the phone away. He had been at Mahora less than a month, and had seen more magic than he should in a lifetime.

He wasn't surprised that magic existed. After all, he spoke regularly with his mother's ghost and often had visions of what other people saw or thought. It was how indifferently magic was treated at Mahora that gave him pause. In the few weeks Phillip had been there, he had fought demons, taught a ghost, seen a robot in her lingerie, gone on a date with the undead, stepped into the middle of a wizard's war and it was no big deal. Perhaps what bothered him was that magic should be something mysterious, something special, not common place.

Of course it was dangerous too he reminded himself. They had been in the crosshairs almost from the start of the class trip. His students were held hostage by armed robbers on their first day in the US. Then there was the battle with a group of evil mages in a shopping mall. It culminated in an attack on the entire class by a creature out of Native American legend. They couldn't even leave the country without some crazy taking a pot shot at them. 'Just another day, right Phillip?'

Even the few girls in the class who hadn't known about magic before the trip had adapted to it. Reactions had ranged from Miss Kakazaki's "that explains a lot" to the Narutaki's "having a dragon for a classmate is so cool." He had to repress a chuckle, remembering as the class rep stared at the other girls in disbelief and shrieked with an outraged voice, "You all knew about this? And nobody told me?"

The student next to him shifted as she dozed, laying her head against Phillip's shoulder. Zazie Rainyday could transform into a dragon. She had done so a few days ago, saving all of their lives. The teacher didn't consider himself a coward but he should feel some concern being so close to her. Oddly, when he looked at her, Markham didn't see a fearsome creature; the girl with the facial tattoos was just another student. Maybe common place wasn't such a bad thing.

Zazie chose that moment to moan in her sleep. Phillip didn't know what language she was speaking, but it sounded as if she said "Mati." Gently he laid a hand on top of hers and suddenly found himself in another place. Flames were blazing everywhere as people rushed madly about. In utter silence, the teacher watched red gouts of blood bloom as semi-automated weapons cut through a cluster of people dressed as if woken from their beds. Trucks, tents and cages were all on fire and gunfire plowed its way through knots of people. "Dear God in heaven," Phillip breathed as he watched the slaughter continue.

How long it went on, he couldn't say, but eventually the people stopped falling. Men carrying AK-47s cautiously examined the corpses. Phillip was familiar with the results of such barbarism, but he had never thought to witness it. One of the men prodded a body with his booted foot. The murderer turned and Phillip clearly saw his face in the firelight. With a shock, the one-time sergeant recognized the man from his time in Kosovo. He was the commander of a Serbian militia based in Strpce.

Mister Markham was once again sitting in the jet on his way back to Japan. His shirt felt sticky from sweat and his shaking hand still rested on his student's. His mind reeled from the double shock that the girl had been in Kosovo and had survived a massacre. The teacher's heart out went to her as he considered the silent student who sat in the back of the class. "Oh Zazie," Phillip thought. "I had no idea."

* * *

Mahora Girls Dormitory

Class 1A, Mahora Girls High School, slowly trudged up stairs to the sixth floor where their rooms were located. The class rep stood to one side, marking each girl off her sheet as they passed by in weary silence. Mana noted that even the Narutaki twins had given out. Kaede and Akira each carried one of the sisters upon their backs. Chachamaru carried extra bags and carefully set them in front of the proper door as the robot quickly made her way down the hall. Finally reaching the room her co-creator shared, the gynoid stopped. "Would you like me to put these in your room?" she asked Hakase in her flat, never wavering voice.

"Yes," the class resident mad scientist answered as she opened the door. "I'd like your help moving this back to the lab on Monday," Hakase continued. "I'll scan and cleanup your files afterwards."

Hakase was surprised to find Mana standing quietly behind her. "Yes?" the girl asked her one-time confederate.

"I'm waiting to get into our room," the taller girl replied. Hakase arched an eyebrow in response so Mana explained, "My room has a water leak so I've moved in with you and Rainyday-san."

"When did this happen?"

"The Tuesday before the trip," the mercenary answered. "You really should drop by a little more often."

"So where is Sakurazaki-san staying?" Hakase asked.

Setsuna's voice carried down the hall to them. "My arm's fine Kono-chan," the swordswoman complained as her friend struggled with both of their bags. The hanyo's arm, confined by a sling, hung limply in front of her. "Let me help."

"The doctor said to rest your arm Se-chan," Konoka reminded her. "I'll make us some tea then I can help you change out of those clothes."

"I'm not an invalid," Setsuna replied as she walked into the room she currently shared with Konoka and Asuna.

Hakase mouthed an "Oh" as she turned back to her new roommate. "How long until they can fix your leak?"

"Who knows," Mana said with her mouth in a half-smile. "It could take all year."

"Your bags are next to your desk," Chachamaru announced as she rejoined them. In her hand was a white envelope. "Tatsumiya-san," she said while extending her hand, "the letter is addressed to you."

* * *

Just a few doors down the hallway, Yuna fell back onto the couch and kicked her shoes off. Her and Akira's suitcases lay in the center of room where the pig-tailed student left them. 'Plenty of time to put stuff away later,' she thought, recalling her recent adventures. This year's trip had been a blast. 'No offense to Negi, but battling evil wizards beats sitting seiza hands down.'

'And Zazie-san was awesome,' she decided. Both she and Asuna had extended their hands in friendship to their quiet classmate, and it thrilled her that the offer was accepted. She could hardly wait to for the next opportunity to save the day. This time the sports girl could be the hero unit. 'But I can't collect the prize then,' she remembered. As she wrestled with the age old dilemma of having one's cake and eating it too, her roommate walked in.

Akira glanced at the luggage piled haphazardly and mentally sighed. "Thanks for bringing in my bag," she said as her attention was caught by a slip of paper sticking out from under her suitcase.

"No problem," Yuna assured her. "What is that?"

"It's a letter," the tall swimmer replied as she picked up the envelope. "It's addressed to you."

Yuna took the envelope and recognizing her father's writing, eagerly tore it open. Her expression turned from anticipation to bafflement as she stared at the empty page. Not completely empty as she noted a series of figures that reminded her of the control panel for a video player. "I don't get it," she said perplexed, flipping the sheet over. "All it has are these drawings," she remarked as her finger jabbed the little arrow. In response, a hologram of her father floated above the page.

"Dear Yuna," the figure of Professor Akashi said.

"Daddy!" she cried out while turning the letter and her father's image over.

"I understand you and your classmates have had an exciting trip," her father's voice continued. "I hope this message finds you all back at Mahora, safe and sound. It's high time that you and I sit down and have a talk, but that will have to wait awhile longer."

Yuna flipped the paper right-side up and stared at her father's image. "By the time you hear this, I'll be out of town again. I know you'll be disappointed, but what I'm doing is vitally important. I may be gone for longer than you're used to, but don't worry, I'll be fine. Remember that you have friends to turn to, who will help you past the rough spots. Please tell Akira, Ako and Makie I said hello."

Her eyes grew misty as his words continued. "Yuna, I am very proud of you and I know your mother would be too." The mood was broken as he slapped palm to forehead. "Oh, I nearly forgot," he exclaimed. "We need to get serious about your training young lady."

Both girls looked at each other, equally bewildered. "I've hired a coach to help get your game to the next level. It won't be easy, but I know you can do it," he said with an amused smile.

"Love, Dad," he concluded as a knock came to the door. Mana stood outside, clutching a sheet of paper in her fist.

"Did you get a letter?" she asked.

Yuna's grin grew wide enough that her mouth hurt. "When can we start coach?"

* * *

Abergavenny, Wales

Hiro stepped from the nearly empty train on to an equally deserted platform. He guessed that not many people came to this out-of-the-way village in the Welsh mountains, or perhaps it was the off season. The station looked like something from another age as red brick columns soared into graceful arches that criss-crossed the ceiling.

The young man set his leather suitcase down and reached into a pocket for a cigarette. As he puffed away, Hiro wondered at the sudden changes in his life. Eight months ago, magic was something mentioned in fairy tales. Now he was on the verge of entering a Magic World where people like him would be the oddity. And at a severe disadvantage he thought as he dropped the burning cigarette and crushed it beneath his shoe.

According to the old man's instructions, he should be met at this station and the contact would see him to the school at Meldiana. The platform was still vacant except for him, so the assassin picked up his bag and headed for the tunnel leading out. Once inside, he heard a conversation echo off the walls.

A woman, looking no older than himself, wearing a black dress with a stiff, white collar was trying to pass another man who was intent on blocking her way. Long, blonde hair fell below the woman's waist and Hiro immediately thought of Ayaka, but this one's eyes reflected violet in the harsh, overhead light. "I'm supposed to meet somebody," she told her unwelcome companion as she tried to move around him again.

The woman's admirer was dressed in a pair of torn jeans and a threadbare tee-shirt. His hair had enough gel in it to stand straight up. "What's your hurry?" he asked. "How about we nip into the pub for a quick pint?"

From the way he slurred his words, Hiro guessed the man had already packed away a few pints. The assassin approached as the couple continued to shuffle back and forth. "I'm not interested," the woman said as she finally pushed her way past.

The man, his face flushed from drink, grabbed hold of her shoulder, and then fell to the ground as a fist smashed into the side of his head with a sound like sledge hammer striking a side of beef. Blood trickled from the side of his mouth as he struggled to rise, but a foot planted itself on top of his groin.

"You don't listen so well," Hiro observed as he stared down at the drunk. "The lady isn't interested."

"Damn, slant-eyed …," the man started to say but stopped as the foot pressed down harder.

"Like I said, you don't listen so well," the assassin said as a slight smile played about his lips. "Apologize to the nice lady if you want to keep your family jewels intact."

"S…s…sorry," his opponent whimpered.

"Get out of here," Hiro told him as he lifted his foot. The would-be Lothario scampered down the tunnel and out of sight. The blonde-haired woman stared at her rescuer with an expression that lay somewhere between shock and fascination. "I hope I'm the person you're looking for?" he asked.

Hiro was surprised when she addressed him Japanese. "You are if your name is Oishi Kuranosuke," she answered.

"At your service … Miss?" he replied.

"Springfield," the woman responded cheerfully as if the events of a moment ago were forgotten. "My name is Nekane Springfield."

She bowed in greeting. "Welcome to Wales Oishi-san."

They walked outside the station and Hiro was amazed by the clear sky overhead. Accustomed to the haze that perpetually hung over cities such as Tokyo or Paris, it felt as if he had encountered the color blue for the very first time. He stopped and gazed at the huge canopy of open space then his eyes swept down to the line of hills looming in the east. The young man could make out an old castle on a nearby hill.

His attractive guide continued a few steps before noticing her companion had halted. "Is something wrong Oishi-san?" she asked.

"Where's the school?" Hiro replied as he scanned the surrounding town.

"Meldiana is too small and too far up in the hills to have train service," Nekane answered smiling. "We have a few hours traveling still."

"So how do we get there?" he asked. "I don't think I want to travel by ghostly carriage."

"That only happens in books Oishi-san," the blonde-haired woman chuckled. She pointed to a bus, painted red and white, parked at the end of the block. "No thestrals I'm afraid."

The driver was a pale-skinned, pinch-faced fellow who merely grunted in reply when Nekane greeted him. She sat next to the window and indicated for Hiro to sit next to her. The diesel engine roared to life and the assassin thought the driver was preparing to launch them into space from the way the man fiddled with various knobs and buttons on the dashboard. Fortunately, the driver merely shifted the bus into gear and pulled away from the curb. Soon it rumbled over a paved road that snaked its way into the hills.

His companion spent the next few hours in a mostly one-sided conversation as they drove along the twisting, Welsh road. She politely asked questions about his family, home and Mahora which Hiro just as politely evaded. For someone who lived in such a remote corner of the British Isles, he found her quite knowledgeable about the school. His face frowned as he recalled a conversation with Ayaka.

"Are you feeling ill Oishi-san?" the woman asked.

"Is Springfield a common name?" he asked in return.

"Not too," Nekane replied. "Why do you ask?"

"I seem to remember that there's a teacher named Springfield at Mahora."

Nekane beamed at that. "My cousin Negi," she informed him.

Hiro now saw how Ayaka could be attracted to a young boy if the boy in question looked anything like the woman next to him. Nekane was beautiful, but still she couldn't hold a candle to a certain middle school student. 'High school student now,' he corrected himself.

"So who is she?" he heard his guide ask.

"Who's who?"

"The person you were just thinking about?"

The assassin's first instinct was to deny it, but he decided to answer, "A girl I knew at Mahora."

"Is she somebody special?" the woman asked.

"At one time," Hiro replied. He had told Ayaka he only wanted her family's money. Her response had been a punch that knocked him to the ground. "We didn't part on friendly terms."

The bus crested a rise and Nekane gave a joyful "Oh! We're home!"

Meldiana was a quaint collection of shops and cottages nestled along the steep flank of a hill. The type of little village one would snap a few pictures of then forget about until years later when looking through boxes of old photos. Hiro felt disappointed at its ordinariness. He had expected power and grandeur, but received sedate instead. Tires encountered cobblestones, jolting the young man out of his thoughts. Pulling next to a fountain, the driver shifted into park and pushed the lever controlling the doors. They opened with a whoosh, letting the two passengers out. Gears ground as the bus shuddered back into motion, belching a cloud of black smoke as it continued on its way. Again, Hiro asked his guide about the school's location.

In response, Nekane pointed to a large, domed building at the distant edge of the village. Its gilded surface sparkled in the late afternoon sun as she spoke. "That is the administration building for the school." She told him. "While it's not as big as Mahora, Meldiana has been in continuous operation longer than any other school of magic."

"Since your associate is expected tomorrow, the school master will meet you both then," the woman continued. "Why don't we get you settled in your room Oishi-san?"

"Am I staying at the school?"

"No, they're too short of space," she explained. "I run a guest house for the occasionally visitor. Follow me."

As they walked away from the fountain, a thought occurred to Hiro. "Negi-san's your cousin, right?" he asked, and Nekane quickly affirmed. "Would you have a picture of him by chance?"

They sat on the couch, peering down at the photo album spread out before them. Carefully, Nekane turned the white paper that kept the pictures from touching one another. "And those are my parents again," she told her guest. "Are you sure I'm not boring you?"

"No, I asked to see them," he replied. "What happened to your folks, if I'm not prying?"

"My mother passed away the August before Negi was born," she sadly recounted. "As for my father, there was a terrible fire seven years ago … the whole village burned down."

"I'm sorry."

"That's alright," Nekane responded as she quickly turned the page. Hiro saw a series of black and white photos. Snow was visible so he assumed it to be the winter. A woman, her blonde hair cut short, held a bundle wrapped in a white blanket. "You can't see him, but that's my cousin in the blanket. He was all of one month old at the time."

"Is that his mother?" the young man asked.

"That is McGuiness-san, a family friend," she answered. "Negi's mother didn't survive his birth."

"And that is Professor Akashi's wife in this one," she said, pointing out the dark-haired woman holding the bundle. "They came to visit for the holidays that year."

The bottom photo was a group shot. "That's the professor on the left, his wife, McGuiness-san, my father, and I'm at the end."

Hiro noted the little, dark-haired girl seated in front. The white bundle was on her lap. "Who's the kid holding your cousin?"

"That would be the Akashi's daughter, Yuna."

He remembered Yuna from the previous August. She had been part of the group that rescued that Naba girl when the Yakuza snatched her. Not that Hiro cared a bit about that; he just wanted payback on the creep that pistol-whipped Ayaka. He recalled Yuna had done alright, taking down a couple of the gangsters, and that she jiggled in the right places when she walked. She had also pushed him off a four-story building to keep him from shooting Ayaka.

Nekane noted the minute change in her visitor's face and started to draw her own conclusions. Last summer, she had talked at length with both Ayaka-san and Chizuru-san while their teacher and classmates were gone. Slowly the pieces of Ayaka's story came together into a sad tale of betrayal, and now she wondered if the other half of the equation wasn't with her. "But you want to see a more recent picture of Negi," she said as she flipped to the end of the album. "He's in the center, surrounded by his students."

The young boy wearing a suit and tie looked out of place surrounded by taller girls. Hiro's eyes roamed to the blonde standing to the teacher's immediate left, and opened wide in surprise. In a voice barely audible, Nekane heard him utter "Ayaka."

Above the mantle, the clock chimed half-past six. "I have an important appointment," the woman explained as she rose. Quickly she pulled a sweater across her shoulders then reached into her pocket and took out a necklace. A ruby, about the size of Hiro's thumb to the first knuckle, was secured by gold wire to a chain.

As she fastened the clasp, Hiro spoke. "It must be some appointment?" he remarked as he examined the gem's smooth surface. "That looks pretty expensive."

"Not really," she responded. "There's a bubble in the center that makes it too fragile to cut."

"So the heart is flawed," he observed.

Nekane's smile seemed bittersweet as she replied, "Yes, but it's who gave it to me that makes it special."

* * *

The couple stood a meter from the cliff's edge, watching the sun gracefully descend in the west. The woman, sweater draped around her shoulders, crossed her arms below her chest, resting elbows on palms. Out of the corner of his eye, her companion noted the expression on her face. It wasn't anger, Nekane was never angry, but her displeasure was clearly evident.

"And you're sure that this is really necessary?" she asked, stressing the word really. If she had hoped he would speak further, she was cruelly disappointed. Craning her head to the side, she studied the man's face. Bathed in sunlight, it shone as brightly as an angel's. Nekane ached from its beauty, but knew he lay beyond her reach, like a blazing star in a distant constellation.

That face, with its awful beauty, regarded her in return. Eyes, far older than the rocks they stood upon, bored into her with their merciless insistence. Nekane fought the urge to glance away; refusing to meekly submit. "Very well, I'll do it," she finally said. "But not because of some vague notion of 'what must be'."

A mischievous grin appeared as she continued. "I do it only because you asked."

So slight it could have been missed, the corners of her companion's mouth lifted in response. The woman was instantly reminded of tiny cracks forming in otherwise perfect marble. 'Perhaps not so distant after all,' she thought to herself.

* * *

Nekane lay upon the covers of her bed and shivered slightly. Even though it was spring, evenings in the eastern hills of Wales were cool. Her ruffled nightgown, comfortable as it was, provided scant warmth. Under the effects of the tea, drowsiness crept upon her. She began her spell as the magic of the draught took hold. "**Queen Mab, part for me the veil of dreams, of sweet dreams, that make the world appear rose-colored**."

People tended to forget that, although not as accomplished as her young cousin, she too graduated from Meldiana. And dream walking was one thing she did as well as anyone. Her dream self rose up and hovered over her sleeping body. To those with the sight, her spirit form resembled a translucent copy of herself. She was unconcerned by her lack of clothing as concepts such as modesty and shame, so prevalent in the waking world, meant nothing in the dreamtime.

At the mere thought, her spirit ascended, as effortlessly as swimming to the surface of the lake near her former home. Floating next to Oishi-san's bed, Nekane looked down at the young man who tossed and turned in his slumber. She tried not to dwell on the consequences of what she was about to do. Peeking into another's dreams was a grey area to mages, but to manipulate dreams had been outlawed for many years. Severe penalties awaited anyone caught performing the mareridt, to include having their magic permanently sealed. Without further hesitation, Nekane straddled the man's chest, placed hand upon perspiring brow, and recited an incantation she was sworn not to repeat.

She found herself on a rooftop, looking at Oishi-san who stood on the far side as he held a hunting rifle in his hands. Negi's little friend, Kotaro-kun, was there too. In the distance, the young woman could hear the blare of a loud speaker above the rumble of a boisterous crowd.

"I feel stupid, falling for that you're-after-her-money story," Kotaro said disgustedly. "So you're a professional killer huh?"

"That's right," Oishi-san calmly answered. "And Yukihiro Ayaka is my target."

Nekane was surprised by revelation. 'Killer?' she thought. 'Oh dear.'

"So what are you going to do about it?" the assassin asked.

"Nothing," the boy replied.

"Nothing?"

"You're not going to pull the trigger," Kotaro declared as the boy crossed his arms in front of his chest.

At that, Nekane understood what she had to do, though the why remained a mystery. Softly, the young mage chanted her spell, "**I call upon thee Morpheus, matchless King of Dreams, form for me a raiment spun out of moonlit beams. With deft fingers, an ivory dream I require of you to weave. Grant me the semblance of the one for whom this heart doth greave."**

"You want me to stop you," the boy concluded.

The man chambered a round and rammed the bolt home as he responded, "Don't count on it."

A girl wearing a school gym uniform stepped from behind the stair housing to confront the arguing pair. Nekane instantly recognized Yuna. "Stop him!" the newcomer yelled.

"Stay out of it Yuna!" Kotaro shouted back. "I know what I'm doing!"

The loudspeaker boomed out "From Mahora Middle School, Yukihiro Ayaka."

The world seemed to stop as the image of Ayaka stepped into the dim light. Confused, the gunman glanced over his shoulder to the noisy stage, and then back to girl he had agreed to kill. "How?" he asked numbly.

"I'm rich," the girl replied impishly. "I can do anything."

Her features became serious as she continued, "Is it true? Do you want to be stopped?"

Though a dream, Nekane felt the tension roll off the man she knew as Oishi-san. "Or will you shoot?" she asked.

Paralyzed by indecision, the assassin mutely looked from the girl to the rifle and back again. "Fire or don't, it doesn't matter," Nekane told him. "It only matters that you choose."

Spirit or not, her heart thumped loudly as he raised the rifle and aimed. One beat … two … then Oishi-san lowered his gun. "I can't do it," he said as the rifle slipped from his hands and clattered on the roof.

The click of heels echoed as she walked to the young man. Her task was completed, he had made his choice, but Nekane couldn't leave it at that. She had spent several days with Ayaka, and though the student had tried to hide it, her hostess could see the traces of heartbreak. While a relationship between these two seemed doomed, that they cared for each other couldn't be denied. She owed the class rep at least a chance after the girl was such a big help to Negi. She placed Ayaka's arms about him and drew him close. "Promise me something," she whispered.

Arms hugged her in return. "Anything," came his strangled reply.

"The place you are going to is very dangerous," she said. "Promise me you'll come back alive."

Nekane felt his arms clutch tighter and then, "I … I promise."

**

* * *

**

A/N: Both the chapter title and opening quote are from "You Can't Go Home Again" by Thomas Wolfe.

**I can't think of too many stories that have Nekane in them, let alone have her do anything. Here is a woman that's beautiful, brave, knows magic and has bucketsful of compassion, yet sadly is as overlooked at Satsuki-san. Below are a few notes concerning her appearance:**

**Mareridt is the Danish word for "mare ride" and comes from the belief that witches and elves rode their sleeping victims, giving rise to the term nightmare for a bad dream.**

**The spell Nekane uses to enter the dreamtime is a translation of a line for Ruben Dario's "The Veil of Queen Mab." In Spanish, the line reads "**_**el velo de los sueños, de los dulces sueños, que hacen ver la vida del color de rosa.**_**"**

**The words for Nekane's illusion spell come from the poem "Sands of Morpheus" by Eric Knickerbocker. The actual words from the poem are: **

_**Morpheus, master of matchless dreams, silently gliding through moonlit beams.  
Deftly, his fingers begin to weave, ivory dreams beneath the loom leave.**_

**My thanks to X-Serac for letting me borrow Serac for this chapter. The inspiration was mission 13 out of his "Darkside" tales.**

**I know the adventure was lacking this time out, but the seeds sown should soon begin to bear fruit.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: To recap what's going on, High School Class 1A has returned from their Spring trip. What few members that didn't know about are now aware of its existence. Homeroom teacher Phillip Markham, a veteran of NATO operations in Kosovo, experienced Zazie's memories of a massacre there. The headmaster has sent assassin Sasuki Hiro to Wales to meet up with Professor Akashi and continue on to the Magic World. **

**Since Ken Akamatsu hasn't given names to Yuna's parents, and it's too cumbersome to constantly work around them, I am using Rikku for her mother's name and Yuji for her father.**

**warning: this chapter includes random doll winding (if you haven't read chapter 190, I can't explain).**

**Negima is owned by Ken Akamatsu and this story in no way has any official sanction or endorsement by him.**

**BTW I understand Masa Master Random is considering contributing another story soon. If you missed him the first time around, make sure to catch him on the rebound.**

**The following conventions are used:**"words", 'thoughts', "**spells**", and –_telepathy-._

**The Cruelest Month**

_**April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire**_ – T. S. Eliot

* * *

Takahata Apartment Mahora, Japan

Fists clenched the game controller in a death grip as Kotaro, showing a single-minded devotion rarely seen outside of battle, furiously pressed the buttons. Staccato-like clicks filled the air as the hero icon on the television screen launched a new round of withering fire, annihilating the oncoming wave of zombie slaves. Or would have if the equipment was as fast at processing as he was at moving. Three of the slime lord's minions broke past the hail of multicolored projectiles. Unable to fire at close range, he watched in impotent fury as they swarmed the hero and devoured his remaining life. The boy snorted in disgust as the words 'Game Over' flashed across the screen, "Stupid game."

The one time mercenary turned elementary student flipped the power off. 'Takahata-sensei really needs to upgrade,' he thought while disconnecting the console. 'This is so ancient I bet it's as old as Ayaka-nechan.' He grinned while imagining the girl's howl of indignation at being called old. Idly, he wondered how much a new system would cost. More than he had he was certain.

Sharp ears heard the jingle of keys outside the door followed by the rattle of the deadbolt turning. The door opened and Kotaro started his greeting, "Yo Takahata," then stopped. A familiar white-haired figure stood behind the teacher. Instantly the boy was on his feet, ears back and teeth bared. "Look out!" he snarled in warning.

"It's alright Kotaro-kun," Takamichi tried to assure him yet moved quickly to interpose himself. "This is Mihai Dragomir."

"Watta ya mean?" the youngster cried is disbelief. "That guy's …" he began but the words stuck in his throat as an impassive face peered from behind the teacher. While the newcomer bore a huge resemblance to Fate Averruncus, Kotaro noticed several differences. Foremost was this Mihai kid looked ever younger than he and Negi. The eyes were also different. Not the color or the shape or anything like that; it was the impression Kotaro got when gazing at them. Fate always struck him as being distracted, concentrating on a distant point almost to the exclusion of everything else. By contrast, the person before him seemed … vacant?

"Mihai-kun is a new student," Takamichi said.

Kotaro had relaxed slightly but grew wary at that. "So where's he going to stay?" With Chizuru and the others moving into the high school dorm, the boy had jumped at the offer to share sensei's place. Granted his room was a converted closet, though the teacher called it an alcove, but it was his space none the less. And he wasn't inclined to share it.

"He'll move into the boy's dorm before Monday," the older man assured him. "I figured he could stay out here tonight, if that's okay with you?"

"Yeah, that's fine," Kotaro replied.

"Great," the teacher exclaimed. "Let me put my bag away and then we'll set a pallet up."

Left alone, the two boys stared at one another. That is Kotaro glared at the interloper while Mihai had a mildly curious expression as if watching a bug crawl around. "What are you looking at?" the hanyo boy demanded.

"You," the white-haired child replied in a matter-of-fact tone. "I think we've met before."

* * *

Student Dormitory Mahora, Japan

Ayaka lay awake, having abandoned the thought of sleep hours ago. The events of the past week kept replaying in her mind; no matter how many times she went over them, the fact was inescapable, alongside the nice, comfortable everyday world she knew was a shadowy, secretive world of magic. Though this magic world was a dangerous place, filled with monsters that would pounce upon the unsuspecting, in truth it posed no greater peril than the world the teen was familiar with. Compared to nuclear weapons, land mines, germ warfare and people who wouldn't scruple against using them, how much scarier were demons?

As odd as it seemed, accepting magic was easy too. The class rep's difficulty lay in the fact she'd been kept in the dark by those around her. How long had they known? How long had they been laughing at her behind her back? Ayaka hadn't made many friends in the class, being responsible for this rambunctious bunch made that difficult, but it hurt not to be considered trustworthy. Even Negi-sensei …

Even Negi-sensei didn't trust her. He had told Asuna about magic, and Miyazaki-san, and even that gossip Satomi-san, but not her. That realization was nearly enough to reduce the girl to tears. She had devoted herself to the adorable, pre-teen teacher, and it hadn't meant anything to him. 'Could I be cursed?' she wondered.

A thumping on her front door caused the class rep to glance at her alarm. '5:30,' she thought. 'What could be so important this early?'

She attempted to throw back the covers, but found them weighted down by a small, furry creature snuggled next to her hip. In the darkness, Ayaka couldn't tell if it was Kukki or Bikke, but it didn't matter as the pounding, now louder, resumed. "Move it cat," she told the pair of gleaming eyes that stared at her.

With the deliberateness only a feline could muster, her roommate's pet rose, stretched and then jumped to the floor. By the time the student reached the door, a voice was calling. "Are you awake Ayaka-san?"

She opened the door to be confronted by three women: Minamoto-san, Goodman-san, and the school's chief of operations. Each wore an expression that could have been used to define the word serious. "Yes?" Ayaka asked.

"Get dressed quickly," Kuzunoha-san ordered. "Your entire class needs to be on the bus in 20 minutes."

A thousand questions sprang to mind, but the class rep clamped down on them. From behind her, she heard the soft tread of feet across the carpet. "What's going on?" Sakurako asked and yawned at nearly the same instant. Eyes opened in amazement as the half-asleep student recognized their visitors. "It's the blonde squad," she muttered.

Twenty-nine groggy teens, one ghost and a plush doll boarded a bus that silently threaded its way through the city streets, stopping in front of a church in a quiet neighborhood. "We're going to church?" one girl asked.

"Hey Kakizaki-san," another called out, "you got anything to confess?"

Kuzunoha stood and glared at the students, ending all chatter. "You will get off the bus by groups of five," the school's second-in-command instructed. "You will quietly follow your guide and do exactly as you are told, or you will answer to me."

The woman's gaze, cold and pitiless, swept over the group, causing even Sayo to shudder. "Any questions?"

To Ayaka's surprise, Konoka raised her hand. "Why are we here Kuzunoha-san?"

"Please be patient Ojou-sama," Toko responded, eliciting several astonished cries. "It will become clear later."

In small groups, they followed silent men wearing white, hooded robes. They went down to the church's basement and below, encountering a shaft over 30 meters across. Carved into the side were steps that spiraled down into darkness. By the time they reached the bottom, Ayaka estimated they were well over a kilometer below ground.

They headed towards a door guarded by two, menacing-looking men in dark suits. The class rep didn't know their names, but recognized them as being part of Kuzunoha-san's security staff. Beyond lay an amphitheater that was their destination. A single stair led down seven concentric terraces to a plain, stone floor. Each level had a row of hard, wooden benches, and three-legged stool sat alone at the bottom. In a short time, the entire class was seated on benches facing the steps.

Ayaka couldn't recall a time when her classmates had remained silent for so long. She could hear the rustle of silk as the headmaster, wearing a long, white robe, walked down the steps. All eyes were upon him as he moved to the stool and sat. His hands had been hidden by sleeves, but he drew them forth and the students gasped as he released a ball of blue-white light. The will-o-wisp danced above his outstretched hand, leaping from one fingertip to another and back again.

"In this chamber, the Kanto Magic Association makes, hehe, decisions that impact many people other than themselves," Konoemon told his audience. "Today, hm, you will all make a decision that will likewise affect many people besides yourselves."

With a wave of his hand, resembling a symphony conductor, the headmaster banished the glowing orb. "Today you will decide if you remain at this school or not."

The class erupted in shouting, but he quieted them with a raised hand. "As should be evident to you all, there are those who wish to harm Mahora, who won't hesitate to hurt or kill any of you to further their aims."

His eyes swept the room and noted he had their complete attention. "Some of you have been here a short time while others have never been anywhere else," he continued. "I knew many of your parents, hm, hm, and even a few grandparents, who attended school at Mahora."

"I would not willingly submit any one of you to peril," Konoemon told them, "but it is not my decision to make. Each of you must determine what the right path for you to take is."

"To help you, I will answer, hm, some of your question, but our time is short."

In an instant, the class rep was on her feet. "Sir?"

"What is it Ayaka-kun."

"What happens if we stay?" she asked.

"If you stay at Mahora, you must accept that your lives and the lives of your classmates are at risk. We will do all that is in our power to protect you, hm, but these enemies I speak of were also responsible for McDowell-san's death." Another round of murmurs broke out but stopped as he motioned again for silence. "What is Fumika-kun?"

"What happens to those that leave?" the girl asked.

"Your memories of the past few days will be erased and replaced with more pleasant ones," he replied. "You will be sent to your homes and not allowed to return."

"Ever?" she asked.

"Ever is too long a time," the headmaster answered. "But you may be as old as I when it is safe to return, hum ho."

Yuna stood next. "Headmaster-sensei, Mahora is my home."

"But you have family that live outside of Mahora," he reminded her. "You will be sent to them."

Still standing, the class rep spoke again. "But not all of us have family," Ayaka said and started to glance in Asuna's direction but caught herself. "What of them?"

"Arrangements have been made," he assured them. "All of you will have another place to go to, another school to attend and another chance to live a normal life."

Konoka stood next. "Grandfather, why are you telling us this?"

The headmaster sat for a moment as all ears bent towards him. Ayaka couldn't be sure, but she thought he smiled. "Because we are at war, and each of you possesses a talent, great or small, that could help us," he finally responded. "I am telling you all this because, hm, Mahora needs your help."

Eyes were suddenly drawn to the top of the stairs as Shizuna appeared, dressed in a blue silk kimono. She stood to the left and opposite her stood Toko in a matching red kimono. Each woman carried a delicate, porcelain cup. "The time to choose is now," the headmaster declared. "The cup on the right holds a sleeping draught. Drink from it and when you awaken, your memories of this will be gone, and your bags will be packed. The cup on the left holds normal amazake. Drink from it and you accept my authority not only as the headmaster, but, hm, as the leader of the Kanto Magic Association."

Konoemon watched as a freckled-faced, red-haired student, whose knees knocked together, slowly made her way to her feet. "What is it Natsumi-kun?"

The girl's face was pale as all eyes turned upon her. "I'm scared Headmaster-sensei," she replied in a quavering voice. "I don't think I've ever been this scared before."

"I don't want to die and I don't want to see my friends die," Natsumi continued. "But to leave now would just be … wrong." A force gripped the student's chest and threatened to squeeze the breath out of her. For a moment, it seemed she couldn't continue. "I want to stay," she gasped out.

Chizuru stood up laid a comforting hand on her trembling roommate's shoulder. A smile was on her lips and her eyes shone brightly with conviction. "And I want to stay too."

Pandemonium threatened as several more students shouted out their intentions to remain, but at the headmaster's gesture, they quieted. "Then Natsumi-kun, you and Chizuru-kun may be the first to drink," he told them.

* * *

Teacher's Dormitory Mahora, Japan

"I reached out as if to grab her," Phillip said. "The next thing I know, I'm flat on my back and Tatsumiya-san is lying on top of me."

The two teachers sat at the breakfast table, discussing their respective trips. Negi speared a piece of egg as he considered what Markham had told him. The young mage was familiar with teleportation and had used the power of his pactio cards to do it on several occasions himself. "But you've never done this before Phillip-san?"

"Never," the older man stated.

"What about with that demon?" Chamo asked. The ermine lounged on the back of the couch, with a cigarette dangling out the side of his mouth. "Wasn't that a kind of teleportation?"

The air reeked of tobacco and Phillip eyed the rodent. "Hey Albert-san," he said, "didn't I ask you not to smoke?"

Whiskers twitched in response, followed by a perfect smoke ring. "You said not to smoke in your room," Chamo answered. "That meant your bedroom, right? And you also said while you were gone."

"God save me from weasels and lawyers," the teacher sighed.

"Careful what you call me," the ermine replied with an irate edge to his voice.

"You object to being called a weasel?"

"Not at all," Chamo responded. "Just don't compare me to a shyster."

"Sorry," came a weary apology. "What was I thinking?"

Negi blushed at the memory of the lilin. Appearing as Sakura-san, the demon had seduced the youngster during his dreams. There were spells that summoned demons but these created openings into other dimensions that the demon had to step through. What Markham did was a forced dislocation, in other words, teleportation, but across dimensions rather than space. The implications staggered the mage.

"You may be on to something Chamo-kun," he said aloud. "Phillip-san seems to be able to duplicate some of the powers of a pactio card."

"I've been meaning to ask," Phillip cut in, "what are these pactio cards about?"

Negi pulled a stack of cards from his pocket and set them on the table. "A pactio is a magical contract between a mage and a partner. In return for their assistance, a mage can lend some of his strength to another, boosting that person's capabilities," he explained. "The card is a physical manifestation of the contract and can be used for communication or teleportation."

"What about the artifacts?" Phillip asked as he examined the cards.

"Not every pactio produces an artifact, but if the mage has sufficient power, the partner can gain the use of a magic artifact," Negi answered. "The partner's personality determines the type of artifact received. Many artifacts have long histories, being granted to more than one person, but never at the same time."

"Some of these cards seem cartoonish," the other observed.

"An incorrectly performed ceremony produces an inferior contract," the boy replied. "Those are botched cards."

"And the ceremony … what does that entail?"

"If both mage and partner are agreeable, a third party draws a magic circle and the two people step into it," the boy said as his face started to color again. "Then they seal the bargain."

"Seal the bargain?" Phillip asked. "How?"

"In Negi's case," Chamo interrupted, "the girls just plant a big, old smooch on him."

"Chamo-kun please," Negi pleaded.

"My respect for you increases daily," the older teacher remarked. "Even if you did have to try twice with Asuna-san and Konoka-san."

"Those were under emergency circumstances," the boy said. "Believe me Phillip-san … I would never … with my students."

"Don't sweat it Negi-san." Picking up Setsuna's card, Phillip continued, "How do you communicate with this?"

Realizing he was being teased, Negi calmed down. "I just place the card on my forehead and call their name."

The boy took the card from Phillip and positioned it. -_Setsuna-san,_- he thought.

-_What is it Negi-sensei?_- he heard.

-_Where are you now?_- the boy asked.

-_We're returning to the dorms,_- Setsuna answered. -_Will you be in your room? I need to speak with you and maybe Markham-sensei as well._-

-_Certainly,_- Negi replied. -_We'll expect you shortly._-

"They're returning," Negi said as he replaced the card with the others. "Setsuna-san would like to talk with us Phillip-san."

"I wonder what the headmaster said to them," the other teacher thought aloud. "I may not have a class come Monday."

"I doubt that," the boy replied. "Most of those girls have a great deal of courage. They would never have made it to this point otherwise."

"I suppose you're right," Phillip said. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed the ermine heading towards the open window. "Where are you off to Albert-san?"

"To get some fresh air," Chamo called back as he scampered outside.

* * *

Student Dormitory Mahora, Japan

Asakura briskly strode down the hallway as Sayo skipped along on her newly discovered feet. The reporter had been surprised to come home and find her friend dancing in the center of their room. 'No wonder the girls below us think the place is haunted,' she thought in amusement. Still, cynic that Kazumi claimed to be, it gladdened her heart to see Sayo happy. 'We need to go visit her sister again,' she decided. 'I just wish there was a way they could touch.'

The plush doll hanging at her side gave the ghost mobility, but was a poor substitute for a body. Briefly, Kazumi considered asking Hakase-san if one of the Chacha sisters could be modified, but that wouldn't solve the problem either.

Entering the room, the red-headed student found her living roommate hunched over with an ornate quill pen in hand. The lavender-colored feather bobbed over her shoulder as the sound of scritch, scritch carried to the door. "What are you doing Yuecchi?"

"I'm writing to my friend in Ariadne," Yue replied as she dipped the end of the quill in an ink pot.

"Oh, that Collie girl right?"

"Her name is Collet," the girl corrected with a trace of exasperation. "You need to remember it when she arrives."

"She's coming here?" Kazumi asked in surprise. "When? How? Is she going to hide her ears?"

Yue glanced over her shoulder. "She'll be here for the Mahora Festival, and I guess she'll use one of the gate ways, even if they only operate once a month now," she replied. "I'm certain she can disguise her ears until the festival, then it won't matter."

The conversation was interrupted by an "Oops" followed by a thump. Sayo was face down on the carpet; just below her feet laid Chachazero. The doll's face wore its normal, wide-eyed look with a malicious grin. As the ghost got to her knees, she cried out, "I hate that doll!"

Iridescent pearls trailed down translucent cheeks. "She's doing this on purpose," Sayo wailed.

"Don't be silly," Yue said as she picked Chachazero up and held the doll to her stomach. "She doesn't have any power."

As the doll folded over her owner's arms, Kazumi noticed the pull string sticking out of its back. Pointing to it, the reporter asked, "Has she always had that?"

"I don't remember," the student responded. "But she's had it since Chachamaru-san brought her to me."

The girl pulled the sting back and let go. "Hello, my name is Chachazero," the doll responded in a mechanized voice. "Tell ghost girl that I don't enjoy her tripping over me either."

Yue turned the doll over and stared down in amazement. "You can talk."

"The string," Kazumi reminded her. "Pull the string."

"Of course I can talk," Chachazero said as the string slowly rewound. "But the string has to be pulled by someone with enough magic to power me."

"I get it," Kazumi exclaimed as the answer dawned on her. "Just like robo-girl, er, Chachamaru-san needs to have her key turned every so often."

"It's a similar principle," the doll explained. "So be careful how hard you yank my string girlie."

"That's very interesting," they heard a small voice say. Looking at the open window, they saw Chamo seated on the ledge. "It appears Eva-chan had prepared for this."

"Couldn't help overhearing," the ermine remarked as he hopped to the floor. "So what's the scoop? What happened at your meeting?"

Yue, still holding Chachazero, sat down on the couch. "Can't help you," she answered. "We're sworn to secrecy."

Sayo drew a little 'x' over her heart then held out her hand, with the middle three fingers pointing up. "Scout's honor," she replied cryptically. Seeing her companion's blank expressions, she added, "I learned it from sensei's mother."

Kazumi flopped down on a cushion as well. "Sorry," the reporter told him. "We could tell you, but then we'd have to kill you."

"Aw come on girls," the ermine cajoled. "This is you old pal Chamo."

Seeing he was getting nowhere at the moment, he leapt to the top of the nearby table. "So does it take a mage to power Chachazero?" he asked. "Or can any creature with sufficient energy do it?"

"I don't know," the doll responded after another tug on her string. "It's easy enough to test."

Yue turned the dolls back towards Chamo, who took the ring in his mouth and pulled it back as far as he could then let go. "Oh! Oh Albert-san! Way to pull my string!" the little doll cried out in pleasure. "I can feel it! It's the b…ii…ggg one!"

Surprised by the outburst, Chamo fell off the edge of the table. He watched, tail held curled above his head, as the doll finished. Kazumi had often seen the ermine worried, but she had never seen such an expression of terror before. Like a white streak, he bolted from the room and wasn't seen for the rest of the day.

Shocked speechless, Yue pulled the string one more time. "Hee, hee. That was too easy," Chachazero chuckled with diabolical glee.

"Did you see his face? Ha, ha, ha !" she continued to laugh. "It was priceless."

* * *

Teacher Dormitory Mahora, Japan

Setsuna slipped her arm from the sling and gave it an experimental flex. She felt no pain, but at Konoka's disapproving stare, she returned it. She was supposed to be ojou-sama's protector, but lately it seems their roles had been reversed. While the swordswoman liked the attention she was receiving, it still left her feeling vaguely unsatisfied.

"They all decided to stay?" Phillip asked in astonishment.

"Yes sensei," Konoka replied. "After Natsumi-san and Chizuru-san drank, everyone else rushed Minamoto-sensei."

As she glanced at the faces of her three dearest friends and the man who had become her homeroom teacher, Setsuna wondered what was missing. Her life had a purpose and she had friends who accepted her as she was. She had the sword and the way. Yet there was something she wanted, something important, but it eluded her grasp.

"Yeah and Kuzunoha-san looked put out about it too," Asuna mentioned. "Maybe she didn't like standing by herself."

Thoughts drifted to the recent escapade when she and Konoka shadowed Markham-sensei and Evangeline-san on their date. Setsuna had been shocked by her friend flirting with a stranger and by having to fend off a roaming hand on the dance floor. For a moment, the girl wished she could have enjoyed the dancing like everybody else. Sensei and Evangeline-san certainly looked like they were having a good time. When he looked at her … 'That's it!'

Faintly she heard Negi's reply. "Or maybe Kuzunoha-san isn't looking forward to 20 more students on patrol."

The realization hit Setsuna hard; no one ever looked at her like sensei did Evangeline's illusory form. No eyes ever gazed at her and saw a woman to be desired. Back in the hospital when she walked in on the two kissing, the girl had felt flustered but now it was clear that she had been jealous as well. 'Oh come now,' she scolded herself. 'You're being as silly as some of your classmates.'

Negi's questions rescued her from thinking about it any further. "What did you want to talk about Setsuna-san?"

Her features grew grave in response. "Amagasaki-san escaped from the temple last night," she said. "Her confederate was captured but she is still at large."

"Her confederate wouldn't happen to be a certain shinmei ryu swordswoman would it?" Negi asked.

Setsuna nodded in confirmation. "But that isn't what I need to speak with you about," she added. "I have been charged with misconduct and must present myself before the school leaders this Friday to face my accuser."

"Misconduct?" Phillip said. "What kind of misconduct?"

"Teaching school techniques to an outsider," she replied, "using my skills for personal gain and cowardice in battle."

"Cowardice!" Negi shouted. "What kind of nonsense is this?"

"Not so loud Negi-bozu," Asuna warned. "We know it's crazy, but she still has to answer them."

"I can't believe Eishun-san would permit this," the boy grumbled.

"Father doesn't have a choice," Konoka informed him. "He has no authority over what is an internal, school matter."

"I'll do anything I can to help you," Negi promised.

"Thank you," Setsuna replied. "I'd like you to accompany Konoka, Asuna and I to Kyoto."

Turning to Markham, she continued, "I'd also appreciate it if Markham-sensei would come too."

The girl saw the unspoken question in his face. "At Kyoto I will face my accuser in battle to determine my innocence or guilt."

"Trial by combat?" the American asked. "Isn't that rather old-fashioned?"

"But very practical sensei," Setsuna answered. "There's no lengthy trial, no court costs and no appeals process."

"Can you beat this person?" Phillip asked.

"My opponent is very skilled, but I can defeat her," she said with confidence. "My fear is that this is part of a larger plot."

"At the mall you showed a knack for knowing what wasn't being said," she told him. "I hope you will be able to do the same there."

She observed the man as he thought it over and decided to play her lone, trump card. "Please sensei," she said, hoping to have judged him correctly.

"Okay, but I can't guarantee anything," Phillip responded then turned to Negi. "Do we need to put in for a leave of absence?"

"Let me handle it," the young teacher answered. "Fortunately, this is during the Golden Week break."

"Markham-sensei, since we're all going to Kyoto to support Setsuna," Asuna said in a hopeful voice, "do you think I can turn my report in a few days late?"

* * *

Concilium Curia Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus

Mifune Hayase, separatist leader within the Council of Mages, sat at his desk reviewing yet another useless report one of his deputies had forwarded along. Closing the folder marked 'Confidential' he took a momentary respite from his work.

He had been outmaneuvered in today's session and that rankled. Using the recent attack upon the Speaker of the Council, he had brought a motion to the floor for the temporary suspension of the gateports. Speaker Karkolova's miraculous reappearance from her sick bed had swayed the majority to vote against it. Still, he considered it a temporary setback to his eventual triumph.

Mifune conceded that the gates had been vital to the Magic World's prosperity. The exchanges between old and new worlds had allowed this world to survive and flourish, but those days were long past. The Great War was spawned by Old World's wars of the last century; the flotsam of their conflicts washed upon the shores of his world, bringing their madness with it. A madness he knew all too well.

A stray thought was all it took as the councilor was once again a soldier with the army of the Northern Alliance. They had clashed with their Southern counterparts at the ancient capital of Ostia in a battle that destroyed the city. Though nearly 20 years ago, he watched the horizon grow dark with the arrival of the hated enemy. Again his crew released the cables holding the Paidi Appolyon to the wind whale, releasing its fury upon the city below. He cheered wildly as the monstrous giant laid waste to its surroundings, and cursed the Thousand Master's name when that legendary mage blasted it out of existence.

Eyes snapped open and his heart raged within his breast as Mifune recoiled from the bloodlust coursing through him. Even after so long, the effects of the Sukkha Prasad, given to the soldiers to make them fight with unabated ferocity, lingered. After the war, he had pledged to never let such happen again. Close the gates he reasoned and the source of infection would be cut off.

A soft knock announced the arrival of another deputy. The underling walked in, his black, rabbit-like ears flopping down, giving the impression of timidity. The man's front teeth overlapped his lower lip, and he spoke with a lisp. "Mifune-sama," he said. "I thought you would find this of interest." In his hand was clutched another of the dreaded folders.

The councilor sighed and extended his hand. "What is it?"

"It is a visa application for an Akashi-san," the underling replied. "He is a teacher from Mahora."

With unfeigned interest the mage opened the file and scanned its contents. "Akashi, Akashi," he muttered. "Why does that name sound familiar?"

"He was a field agent up until his partner's death several years ago," the man answered. "And his daughter is confirmed to have been with Negi Springfield during the disturbance at the Ostia Tournament."

"Interesting indeed," Mifune remarked. "So the good professor wants to take a vacation. Has he filed an itinerary?"

"No sir."

"I want this man under a close watch," he instructed the now grinning deputy. "But keep it discreet."

The underling bowed in response. "You have my word councilor."

**

* * *

**

A/N: I've wanted something like to happen to Chamo-kun since he first showed up in the manga. While I am fond of the little ermine, he needs a worthy opponent to keep him on his toes (being thumped by Asuna-san doesn't count).

**My thanks to MakuhariFan for pre-reading parts of this chapter. I appreciate your comments and will consider them as the story develops.**

**Chapter title and heading are from T. S. Eliot's poem, "Burial of the Dead."**

**The giants referred to in the last section appeared during a flashback sequence in chapter 169, at the battle of Ostia. In the Book of Revelations, the angel holding the keys to the pit was named Appolyon, which in Greek means 'The Destroyer'. Paidi is the Greek word for 'Child' so the term Paidi Appolyon would be loosely translated as 'Child of the Destroyer.'**

**Sukkha Prasad, in Sanskrit means 'Peace Giver.' It is a Sikh term for cannabis and I used it here as a name for the drug given soldiers before battle to reduce inhibitions and ward off fatigue. **


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: The pace picks up ever so slightly as characters get into place. Primary focus is Mahora, the Mundus Magicus with Professor Akashi and Hiro, and soon to be Kyoto. I hope to keep things flowing a little smoother this time around.**

**Disclaimer: 'Negima' is owned by Ken Akamatsu and this story in no way has any official sanction or endorsement by him. Both Phillip Markham, Jr. and Sasuki Hiro are my creations. The raven appeared in a poem by Edgar Allan Poe and is used in spite of that.**

**The following conventions are used:**"words", 'thoughts', "**spells**", "singing" and –_telepathy-._

**Fare Thee Well**

_**Fare thee well and if forever, still forever, fare the well – **_Lord Byron

* * *

Meldiana School of Magic, Wales

A breeze wafted through the school's courtyard, making Professor Akashi glad for the light-weight jacket he wore. After years of doing desk work, as important as it was, the mage was exhilarated to be in the field again. 'Now if only this Oishi-san would show up,' he thought impatiently, 'we could get on with it.'

Standing next to the professor was the white-haired mage who was the face of Meldiana to magicians in both worlds. The Magus appeared unchanged from the last time Akashi had seen him. The older wizard reminded the middle-aged man of the pillars supporting the breezeway roof; weather beaten certainly, but otherwise showing only the minutest difference from year to year.

"I am pleased to hear your daughter and her classmates are back safely at Mahora," the Magus told him. "She seemed such a lively girl during her brief visit last summer."

"Yuna inherited her mother's high spirits," the professor remarked.

"From what I've heard, she's inherited more than that," the elderly mage noted. "She might make a fine partner one day."

"She might," he replied in a non-committal tone. After his wife and partner's death, Akashi hadn't wanted to bring Yuna into the hidden world, but had realized his mistake after she followed her teacher into the Mundus Magicus. Though he had hired a tutor for his daughter, he hoped it wasn't a case of too little, too late.

"What kind of partner do you think she'd make young Springfield?" the Magus asked.

"If you're asking whether I'd stand in the way of a match between them, I won't," he answered. "But I won't allow them to be pushed together either."

The professor had thought long and hard about this subject, almost since he heard of the boy's birth. His wife had brought the possibility up, but Akashi was never sure how serious she was about it. Then Rikku died and …, "I don't believe the children should be forced into someone else's ideal."

"Besides, the boy has enough candidates at the moment," he said with a slight grin.

"Yes, it is a legacy among the Springfield men," the Magus agreed. "I say this after observing the last few generations of them."

"What is the current situation in the Mundus Magicus?" the professor asked, anxious to change the subject.

"The capital is calm as feared follow-up attacks have not materialized, but the voices arguing for complete separation between the worlds have grown louder," the white-haired wizard confided. "The Western Dominions don't much care as long as they're left alone. Yet even now some Westerners are complaining about the Domineering East."

"This is how it began before," the professor said somberly, "the sectionalism, the grievances, followed by petty games of one-upmanship, growing into full-bloom antagonism. My God, why don't we ever learn?"

"That is why it is important we have men like yourself and Takahata," the Magus responded. "And why we teach the next generation to follow in your footsteps."

Before Akashi could reply, the sound of a woman's laughter floated to the two mages. A young couple walked up the graveled path towards them. Sunlight gleamed off the young woman's blonde hair, and the professor instantly recognized Nekane Springfield. 'She's become as beautiful as her mother,' he thought then turned his attention to her companion.

As he looked at the young man, the word 'nerd' crossed his mind more than once. The other agent wore a white, short-sleeved shirt with black trouser hiked up enough to expose his socks. The man's brown hair was slicked down and a pair of glasses, the ones with the black, plastic frames, perched on his nose. 'A pocket protector?' Akashi mentally noted. 'Who wears pocket protectors these days?'

Nekane introduced the newcomer as Oishi Kuranosuke. He bowed in greeting then politely said, "It is an honor to meet you."

* * *

Gateport Megalo-Mesembria

Katja stood at the head of the boarding ramp, examining traveler's passports and mentally cursing the uniform she wore. The gateport agent's shoulders itched from the fabric. A pair of delicate, goat-like ears, flaring out from underneath her blonde hair, twitched in mild annoyance as she longed to rub her back against the wall behind her. But that wouldn't be acceptable behavior while on duty she reminded herself.

'Maybe I can have that handsome Adolphus scratch it for me,' she thought as she cast a quick glance towards the robed security guard. Katja resolved to talk with him during the break as the next traveler stepped forward.

"Passport," she said, extending her hand towards the robed figure. She scanned the document and compared the picture to the man standing before her. "Any magic items to declare?"

"None," the stranger answered.

"What about that?" the agent asked, pointing to the staff in his hand. The top third had been fashioned to resemble a jagged lightning bolt.

"Completely non-magical," he replied with a wry sort of grin on his face. "We're very fond of Springfield memorabilia in Granicus."

"I'll need to confirm," Katja responded as she produced a small wand and ran it along the length of the staff. Detecting no energy from it, she handed the papers back to the traveler. "Have a nice trip Mister Dolnegus," she said.

* * *

Military Club Compound Mahora, Japan

"Kaw! Kaw!" the bird squawked as it fluttered from branch to window ledge to stone bench. Sunlight lent its blue-black feathers a lustrous sheen, reflecting back brilliant bits of color, as if broken by a prism. The raven continued its raucous call as it made a circuit about the grounds.

Yuna and Zazie waited patiently at the front door to the military club's compound. That is the white-haired girl made like a still-life while the sports girl fidgeted in anticipation. Today was Yuna's first "lesson," and like her birthday, it couldn't arrive soon enough. Back at the mall, Yuna had hoped for this moment, a chance to chase a new dream and follow her mother's path, to live out every adventure she ever imagined. The girl could be excused if she felt a touch of nervousness.

"Nervous? Ha!" she laughed to herself. 'I'll be fine.' Thinking back to the Mahora festival, Yuna recalled the heroics of Negi, Asuna and the others, remembering how she envied them. 'I'll be doing all that neat stuff soon,' she promised. 'Now if only Tatsumiya-san would show up.'

"Kaw! Kaw! Kaw!" the raven cried again in its harsh voice.

'Stupid bird,' the dark-haired student thought. 'Why doesn't it just go away?'

The bird landed only a few meters away, uttering its plaintiff call to her annoyance. She started to shoo it away when a soft voice said, "Please let it be Yuna-san."

Yuna stopped and looked back at the girl who had called her by her first name. "Um, okay Zazie-san."

The foreign girl's face had a strange appearance beyond the tattoos she wore. It was as if she were closely scrutinizing something and yet peering into the distance. Not wanting to disturb her friend, Yuna stood quietly, all else forgotten. 'Is this magic?' she wondered.

"He cannot find his mate," Zazie declared. "He calls to her, reminding her of their nest, of the joyous times they shared and of his enduring love."

"He waits for her returning call to say that all is well," the teen continued. "But she hasn't answered in days."

A single tear formed in the corner of Zazie's eye and hung suspended, refusing to be shed. "It is very tragic, no?"

Yuna held a tissue out and asked in a hushed tone, "How do you know all that?"

"Because I listen," the acrobat answered.

"I was listening too," Yuna insisted. "But I didn't hear any of that."

"That is because you listen only with your ears," Zazie replied. A hand took hold of Yuna's and touched her fingertips to the other girl's eyelids. "Listen with these," she said then moved the hand to her lips. "And with these."

"And most all," Zazie positioned the hand above her heart and pressed it down, "with this."

Yuna had often heard her father's students speak about information overload, but never understood what they meant. Through her confusion, the basketball player caught a glimmer of it. The gears in her head had started spinning again when the door opened and Mana stepped outside.

The mercenary's face betrayed no emotion as she beheld the tableaux before her. Zazie still held the hand against her chest, looking as unperturbed as a statue. Meanwhile, Yuna was trying to decide which shade of red to turn to. Ever the consummate professional, Mana ignored it all. "Well then," she said brusquely, "let's get started shall we?"

The three classmates walked down the hall and halted before a darkened doorway. Mana flipped the lights on, revealing a room the size of the school's gymnasium. Racks upon racks of weapons, ancient to modern, filled the space with a score of workbenches pushed against the walls.

Yuna's recent embarrassment was swiftly forgotten as she gazed about like the kid in the candy store. "Is that for real?" she asked, pointing to a small tank on display. Twin machine guns sprouted from the turret rather than the single, large gun of the popular image.

"Yes, Germany provided several of its obsolete Panzer I models to the Imperial Army," Mana answered. "That one saw action in China."

Yuna pointed at a desert camouflage painted helicopter next. "That too?"

"That Mi-24 flew several missions during the Soviet Afghan War," the mercenary informed her. "How the military club got hold of it, I haven't a clue."

The tall student led them to a row of handguns, starting with early matchlock pistols and progressing to current day firearms. Mana removed a long barreled revolver and held it out to Yuna. "This is a Smith and Wesson Model 10 revolver," the girl said. "See how it handles."

"It's heavy," the ballplayer said in surprise. She needed both hands to keep it level.

"These are the real thing," her tutor explained. "Unlike those magic toys of yours."

"Those aren't toys," Yuna started in her defense and then paused. "You mean they're magical?"

"Of course, they're magical," Mana replied. "Did you think the Engineering Department slapped in a dilithium crystal and handed it to you?"

"So if my guns are magical," she said while replacing the pistol on the rack, "why do I need to bother with anything else?"

Her classmate fixed her with a stare that reminded Yuna of the looks she received every time she asked the math instructors a question. "You're providing the guns' energy," Mana explained. "What happens if you're blocked like back in the mission?"

While Yuna pondered that, the girl moved to the next point. "Those weapons are designed to be used against objects powered by magic. They may stun normal people, but won't do a thing against a wizard's barrier, or a demon, or …"

"Okay. I get it," she responded. Yuna picked out a smaller pistol. "How about this one?"

"Mateba Autorevolver, light weight, little recoil, semi-automatic, six chambered cylinder, .357 magnum rounds," the sharpshooter listed. "Get a cleaning kit and we'll go over it in detail."

"What? What good is all that?"

"In a life or death situation, you don't want to be surprised about your weapon." Out of the corner of her eye, Mana noticed Zazie's movement. "What is it Rainyday-san?"

The girl mimed picking up the AK47 in front of her and the mercenary nodded her permission. Zazie turned the weapon over and snorted derisively. "Made in Serbia," the acrobat said. "Jams frequently."

Without further word of protest, Yuna headed to a workbench. As the doom-laden teen walked away, Zazie flashed Mana the thumbs up sign. The gunslinger stifled a giggle as she thought, 'Score one for the zanni.'

* * *

Gateport, Wales

Hiro gazed at the huge, stone blocks encircling the group. He had heard of the great megaliths built by ancient Celts, but had only seen pictures of them previously. Like everyone else, he was dressed in a plain, hooded robe. "What do we do now Akashi-san?" he whispered to the man next to him. "Do we just get beamed up or do we sacrifice a goat first?"

"No, we use cat-girls for that," the professor answered with a straight face. "And don't forget that you're my student assistant."

"Got it sensei," he replied as a ring of light appeared around the base of the towering central stone. The light swiftly expanded, covering the ground to the outermost circle of blocks. Hiro felt a tingling that started in the soles of his feet and spread over his body. It reminded him of a static charge that could build up while walking across a carpet. A glowing shaft shot heavenward from the central stone followed by an eruption of light from below the assassin's feet.

The sudden brilliance blinded the young man as a force gripped and spun him around like a child's top. Round and round and round he goes, like in the children's rhyme, where he stops nobody knows. When his sight returned, Hiro found himself facing another large block of stone. But now the group stood on a platform suspended in the center of a structure as large as Tokyo Stadium. "Bloody hell," he exclaimed under his breath. "Professor, where are we?"

Akashi pulled back his hood. "We are in the capitol, Megalo-Mesembria," the mage answered. "Follow me to the view terrace. You can get a good look at the whole city from there."

The gateport rested on an island in the bay. Across the water, Hiro could see the lights of the city as the first rays of dawn broke over the surrounding hills. Upon closer examination, the hills turned out to be immense pillars of stone that towered over the tallest buildings. Though impressive, the city struck him as like the cities of his world. That view changed as a creature larger than any he'd seen before rose into the air and floated above the skyscrapers. "Akashi-sensei, is that a … whale?"

"Yes, the wind whales are used for mass transportation," the mage replied, amused by his assistant's reaction. "You'll see other aquatic species adapted to an aerial environment. Just make sure you stay out from underneath their flight paths."

He stared at the cityscape, letting the vision imprint itself upon his memory. A quote, he couldn't recall from where, sprang to mind. 'I have stood upon the distant shore,' the narrator said, 'and beheld a brave, new world.' For the first time he could understand how the early explorers of his world must have felt.

"Come along," the professor said. "We still need to claim our baggage."

Hiro tried not to gawk at the girl checking their passports, but he couldn't help staring at her ears. She glared back as if she considered him some kind of nut or pervert. As they walked to the claim desk, neither man noticed the agent nod to one of the security guards, nor his quick, whispered conversation into a small, communications device.

"I'm sorry sir but you can't bring those in," the lady at the claims counter told Hiro. "These are a clear violation of hazardous materials regulations."

A man dressed similarly to the desk clerk walked up behind her. "What seems to be the problem?"

"This young man is trying to import several dangerous substances," the woman said.

"Yes sir," Hiro added. "They are part of my class assignments while I'm traveling with Professor Akashi." He pulled a set of papers from under the cloak. "Here's is my independent study program approved by the head of the geosciences department," he explained. "I'm supposed to compare old world samples of common chemicals with their counterparts here and note their differences."

"What chemicals are we talking about?" the newcomer asked.

"Sulfur, potassium nitrate, aluminum, ammonia," he recited. "Just chemicals commonly used in agriculture and industry."

"So you're a student at Mahora University?" the man asked.

"Yes sir," he proudly answered. "I'm in the chemical engineering program."

"First time in the Mundus Magicus?"

"Is it that obvious?" Hiro replied, appearing apprehensive.

"Just a bit," the man chuckled. "These quantities are too small to do any harm. I'll approve the importation certificate."

"Oh, thank you sir."

"Make sure you check the proper regulations next time," he was warned. "And good luck with your studies."

* * *

Military Club Compound Mahora, Japan

Mana may not have been patient enough to be a teacher, but she had no problems repeating everything point several times until Yuna got it. It reminded her of drills during a basketball practice. She followed the tall mercenary into what looked like an exercise room, at least it had a number of practice mats on the floor. At the far end were two poles set close together and encased in the vinyl covered foam. "This is you first exercise," Mana told her.

"Many times you'll need to scale an obstacle during pursuit," the gunslinger explained. "I want you to get to the top of one pole."

Yuna estimated the poles to be about 3 meters tall, or about the distance of the rim above a basketball court. "No sweat," she confidently announced.

"There's just one complication," her tutor said as she held out piece of wood carved into the shape of a handgun. "You may not have the time to draw a weapon at the top, so you need to climb with this at the ready position."

Yuna took the mock pistol and approached the poles a trifle less confident. She jumped and scissored her legs around the pole, but couldn't get the traction to pull herself higher. After several minutes of trying, a red-faced girl slid back down in surrender.

As she wiped the sweat from her eyes, Mana asked, "Is it a little harder than you thought?"

Stepping back, she faced the sharpshooter. "Okay, there has to be an easier way," Yuna replied. "How would you get to the top?"

In answer Mana sprinted towards the pole and leapt, striking the surface with the ball of her foot and pushing off. Striking the second pole, she pushed off of that and climbed to the top in mere seconds. Yuna could only stare in open-mouthed amazement.

The mercenary left Yuna to practice after claiming business to do in the armory. After twenty more minutes of struggling, a sore Yuna slumped down next to Zazie. "What am I doing wrong?" she groaned.

The tattooed girl stood and put hands to her ears as if to say "Listen." "You watch me," she pantomimed.

Without words Zazie said, "This is Mana." She rushed forward, jumped from one pole to the next, twisted and landed in a crouch. "This is you," the acrobat motioned. When she jumped again, her foot struck with greater force and her knee was held rigid. The result was one Yuna was uncomfortably familiar with.

"Hey, I'm not doing that," Yuna protested. "Am I?"

She was answered by the other girl's emphatic nod.

"How am I going to do this?" she despaired.

"Don't try to climb the mountain all at once," Zazie's voice said. "Master the first step before you go on to the second."

"Okay Zazie-san," she replied. "I'll try."

"No, Yuna-san do not try," the girl told her sternly. "The body can only achieve what the mind believes is possible. To 'try' is to admit defeat before you begin."

* * *

Mahora, Japan

Madoka hiked along the hilly trail, only paying half attention to her surroundings. So much had happened the past week that it felt as if her head would explode from the amount of information crammed inside. Truth twinned about other truths, like loose threads in a box, leaving a tangled mess. What was real? What was illusion? And did the difference matter anymore?

In just a few, short days, her entire world had changed yet remained the same. Magic was real, but the sun still shone as brightly as ever. Her life was in danger from people she didn't know and the birds still sang sweetly. All of her classmates seemed to have some deep, dark secret, yet they were the same people she had grown up with. 'This is too much for me!' the teen silently cried out. 'I'm only 15!'

But the world offered no sympathy for her plight. 'You made the choice to stay,' she imagined its reply. 'You could have forgotten these troubling thoughts,' the world reminded her then continued to spin about with serene indifference.

Up ahead loomed the World Tree. Many stories were told about this ancient tree, now Madoka wondered how true they were. Like other students, she would come to sit in its shade and relax. However, someone else was there ahead of her. Though his back was turned, the student recognized her teacher.

Mister Phillip Markham, Junior, presented her with another emotional rollercoaster. Lots of girls became attracted to their teachers; however, Madoka was too practical for that. She had been amused by Asuna's infatuation with Takahata-sensei, giggling with the rest of the class, so how this could have happened to her was as mysterious as the giant tree they stood beneath.

He hadn't noticed her arrival, so the student was about to slip quietly away when she paused and thought back to the card reading Rainyday-san had done for her. The white-haired girl had said that Madoka was afraid of what changes the future held, but that she had the courage to face and overcome her fears. Taking a deep breath first, she greeted her teacher. "Hello Mister Markham."

The man turned at her words and smiled when he recognized her. "Hello Madoka-san."

All her confidence vanished as that smile turned her insides to jelly. A wave of panic washed over Madoka, urging her to run away. "I'm glad you're here," the man said. "I've been meaning to talk with you, but there haven't been too many opportunities."

'Move!' her brain screamed, but the rest of her body remained rooted in place. "You have?" she asked.

"First of all, I want to apologize for embarrassing you when you stepped out of the shower," he told her, his face growing serious.

"Oh, I don't mind," she replied then stammered, "I mean that's one of those crazy things that happen."

He took a step towards her, then another. "Well, I never did thank you for standing next to me at the mission," Phillip said. "I don't know how much longer I could have held out if you hadn't."

Madoka felt her doom approach with each stride the man made. "Um, Misa and Sakurako were there too." Her heart was pounding so fast that she was afraid it would burst from the strain.

"But they followed your lead," he pointed out.

'Please, not a step closer!' she wanted to shout, but the words wouldn't come.

"Most of all I wanted to say thank you for staying," Phillip said. "I'm very grateful for that."

He was nearly on top of her. "You are?"

He halted mere centimeters away. "Yes I am," he answered. "I don't want any harm to come to you, or your classmates, but a very selfish part of me doesn't want to lose a friend."

"A … a friend?" the question came out. "But … um … I mean."

"We are student and teacher, but that shouldn't prevent us from being friends," Phillip responded. "I won't show you any favoritism because of it."

"No. Of course not," Madoka agreed. The tension was too great; she felt ready to snap in half. When a harsh "Kaw!" sounded behind her, she shrieked and flung her arms around the man.

The teen pressed tight against Phillip; her hands clutched the back of his shirt. Trembling in his arms, she felt his hand gently stroke her hair. "It's alright," he whispered. "It's only a crow."

Again the bird uttered its cry as it flapped about the area. It soon flew away, but Madoka still held on. She was 15, in a world she no longer understood and scared out of her wits by it. At the moment, however, the girl was exactly where she wanted to be.

* * *

Hotel Militas, Megalo-Mesembria

Hiro wandered about the lobby, unwilling to stay cooped up in the hotel room. It seemed the good professor didn't need, or perhaps the word was trust, his new assistant; Akashi had left the young man to his own devices while he went out into the city. If the middle-aged mage thought he was useless, perhaps the people following them would too.

The assassin had picked up on the tail from the moment they left the gateport. They weren't very good he concluded, or else unconcerned, since they did little to hide themselves. They must have thought he was a tourist from all of the twisting about he did to keep them in sight. Still, it seemed obvious somebody didn't believe the professor's story about being on vacation.

He decided to hang around the hotel and see what information he could unearth. Besides, the view wasn't bad he thought as eyes trailed a swimsuit clad woman on her way to the pool. He wasn't even fazed by the long, tawny colored tail that swished back and forth as she walked.

Hiro entered the bar and was greeted by the sense of familiarity. The bartender was the only other person in sight and he seemed to be human. The only additional fur evident was the blonde-colored beard and mustache combination the man wore. "Are you open?"

"Just," the tender replied. "What'll you have?"

"What do you recommend?" the assassin asked.

"We have a special on martinis," the man answered.

"I'll give it a try."

"Shaken or stirred?"

Before he could answer, a deep voice growled "A Granicus Smasher bartender." The speaker stood nearly two meters tall and was covered in an orange-red fur. A tail, banded in black, curled off to one side. He possessed the graceful movement of a hunting cat, but muscles rippled underneath the fur. "What's your problem, kid?" he asked, noticing Hiro's stare. "Haven't you ever seen a tiger-man before?"

"Actually no," he replied. "Tender, I'll have the same and put charge both drinks to my room."

The tiger-man regarded him through a pair of narrow slit eyes. "Thanks," he said, pulling up the stool next to Hiro. "What's your name?"

"Oishi Kuranosuke. And yours?"

"Ray Blaze," he answered proudly. "Perhaps you've heard of me?"

The stranger seemed perturbed by the lack of recognition. "You don't follow the Professional Gladiator's Tour do you?"

"Sorry, no," Hiro responded. "I take you're pretty good then."

"I only had one loss last season," Blaze stated. "And that was to Nagi Springfield."

"Did you say Springfield?"

* * *

Hours later, Professor Akashi walked away from the hotel desk concerned. Oishi-san hadn't been in the room when he returned nor did he leave a message. He had thought an agent would have had more sense than to wander around a strange city. The professor was considering filing a missing person's report when the sound of off-key singing drifted out of the bar. He followed the noise and found his missing assistant surrounded by a dozen characters he wouldn't want to meet in a dark alley.

"But I'd rather have a bottle in front of me," they chorused, "than have to have a frontal lobotomy."

"Hey Professor," Oishi-san called out to him. "Did you know the Professional Gladiator Association uses this hotel too?"

**

* * *

**

A/N: Ray Blaze and his partner Lim Dies (think Tinkerbell for her), face off against rookie gladiators Negi (using the Nagi name) and Kotaro in chapter 196.

**Chapter title and heading are from 'Fare Thee Well' by Lord Byron.**

**The song 'I'd Rather Have a Bottle in Front of Me …' was written by Randy Hanzlick, MD.**

**The military hardware mentioned is all real. The helicopter was shown during the Mahorafest arc. While the Panzer never shows up, the IJA did receive that model from their German allies during the 1930's. I always wondered how Yuna got hold of a tank in the anime, so maybe she did just borrow it from the club.**

**The Professional Gladiator Association and Tour names are used without consent. Usage should not be construed as an endorsement. Similarities to any other organization using the same initials are purely coincidental. **


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N – Welcome to Chapter Four, proof that lack of personal transportation can be a spur to productivity. I'm trying something a little different on the organization of this chapter. Normally I have everything in a sequenced by events, but this time I've arranged it by character view point. For those of you who review, please let me know which you prefer.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns 'Negima' and its characters, lock, stock and barrel. Neither do I own 'The Talisman' by Stephen King and Peter Straub, though I mention it in the story. Phillip Markham, Sasuki Hiro and Regina Karkolova are of my invention. My thanks to MakuhariFan01 who allows me to bounce ideas off him; your help is greatly appreciated. Thanks also to my fellow Train Station contributors for the constructive comments. **

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', "**spells**", '_reading_' and _memories_

**A Tangled Web**

"_Oh, what a tangled web we weave when first we practice to deceive!" –_** Walter Scott**

Mahora, Japan

Monday morning started like previous Mondays, with the clarion cry of an alarm. Asuna jumped down from the top bunk, careful not to impale herself on Setsuna's nodachi, and slammed her hand down on the offending clock. After quickly dressing, she slipped into the hallway, careful not to disturb her slumbering friends.

In the pre-dawn darkness, her hair bells softly chimed, adding a counter-point to the songbird's trill. As the student walked down the not-quite-deserted streets, Asuna watched the city slowly shrug off sleep and begin a new day. She waved to the patrolmen as they rode by on their bicycles and made her way to the Morning News building.

"Morning Asuna-chan," she was greeted just as she had been since her first day of delivering papers. "Sounds like you had an eventful class trip."

"It was that," the student remarked as she opened up her pouch for the day's stack of newspapers. "So who covered for me while I was gone?"

Before the manager could answer, another voice replied. "Who do you think Asuna-nechan?"

"Kotaro-kun?" she responded.

"Yeah," the boy in the plain, black, school uniform answered. "You covered for me so it was time to return the favor."

"Morning Kotaro-kun," the manager greeted the boy as he handed him another stack.

As the pair walked out of the building, Asuna whispered, "What about your other job?"

In response, the boy pointed to a sweat suit clad figure standing just outside the door. "Good morning Miss Kagurazaki," Mr. Markham said.

"I don't understand. What's going on?"

"I need to get my jogging in and Mr. Murakami needs to deliver papers, so we decided to kill two birds with one stone," the man explained. "Of course it was Negi-san's idea."

"Oh, of course."

"I hope he won't have any problems keeping up," Phillip commented.

"What's he saying?" Kotaro asked her.

"He doesn't think you can keep up," Asuna told him, suppressing a grin.

The hanyo glanced once at the middle-aged man and then set off at a quick trot. "Come on gramps," he called over his shoulder.

"Have a nice run sensei," she said as her teacher loped after the youngster. Watching them round the corner, Asuna failed to notice a dark shape detach itself from the other roof top shadows and follow.

A while later, Asuna entered the classroom and walked over to her desk. The cheerleaders were gathered around the table where Madoka sat; Misa seemed to be trying to talk her roommate into something. 'Probably another one of her wild schemes,' the bell-wearing student thought.

"Come on, you should be the one to ask," the long haired girl insisted but her friend continued to shake her head in refusal.

Making her way to the chair, she had a seat and waited for the rest of the class to arrive. Konoka walked in next, followed immediately by her mininstra. Asuna still didn't know why the Kanto Magic Association had demanded the pactio during the time Konoka filled in while her grandfather dealt with Evangeline's death, but Setsuna had been so much more relaxed since. She could recall times the swordswoman held herself so rigidly, Asuna swore the hanyo's spine crackled.

Yuna came in next, shuffling by with an odd gait. The athlete didn't appear to be tired or in pain, it was more like her leg muscles were refusing to move normally. "Are you okay Yuna-san?" she called out.

"Fine, I'm fine," the ballplayer answered and then mutter something about "taking things one step at a time" underneath her breath.

Finally, Goodman-san opened the door as Nodoka and Yue wheeled in a cart loaded down with several dozen books. As the last students took their seats, the teacher's assistant called the room to attention for Markham-sensei. "Stand," Takane said, then "Bow."

"Good morning class!" Phillip greeted them.

"Good morning Mister Markham!" they responded, followed by Goodman-san's "Be seated."

Sounds of chairs scraping the floor, shins banging against table legs and paper rustling filled the room then subsided. Asuna watched her teacher as he took roll. He had been truly surprised to learn that not one student decided to leave Mahora when offered the chance. To be truthful, she was too. 'We're all idiots,' baka red thought to herself.

After roll, sensei addressed the class. "Due to Golden Week, your papers will be due Friday of next week," he announced to Asuna's relief. But then he had to follow that with "However, I'll expect a four page long paper since you'll have an extra week." That information brought a distinctly unenthusiastic response.

"Also, I've made a change to the order of our readings," he told them, indicating the cart of books. "We have one long novel that I was going to assign for the final term, but I think it's appropriate to cover it now. If the students in the back will come up front and get enough copies to distribute to everyone in their row."

Yue handed her a paperback book thick with pages of small-typed text. 'We're supposed to read all of this?' Asuna wondered as she read the words '_The Talisman_' off the cover. 'I won't have time for anything else.'

"Stephen King and Peter Straub are noted primarily for horror fiction," Phillip explained to the class. "But in this novel, the authors forego the standard conventions for the genre and instead create a tale in the mold of an epic quest. The hero, a young boy, sets out from his home to discover a means to save his mother's life. Along the way he discovers that parallel world exists, a world that he and certain others can travel to and from. To complete his quest the hero must unravel the secrets of this new reality, defeat opponents that wish to stop him, and find his place in both worlds."

"Let's turn to chapter one," he began.

"Mr. Markham?"

"Yes Miss Kakizaki?" he replied.

"Since we have a long break coming up," Misa said, "I was wondering if there are any plans for a class activity?"

"Activity?" the teacher asked.

"Well last year we went to an island resort," the cheerleader explained. "The class rep arranged everything for us."

Asuna had to stifle a laugh as she watched Ayaka's face flush. Iincho-san had planned for that to be a quiet, little getaway for her and Negi, only to have half the class show up unannounced. Of course, Asuna was mad at the little brat at the time and wasn't going to go, but Konoka wouldn't take no for an answer. It had nearly turned into a disaster, however, the two had made up by the end.

"That was fun," Fuka said. "Can we do that again?"

Ayaka's "No!" followed swiftly on its heels and several voices were raised in objection.

The former sergeant intervened before the discussion degenerated further. "Class!" he boomed out.

"How does he do that?" Asuna murmured as all eyes focus on the man at the head of the room.

"That sounds like an excellent idea Miss Kakizaki," the teacher said. "You're in change of planning an appropriate activity."

"And it isn't fair to put this all on you," Phillip continued. "Miss Akashi, Miss Rainyday and Miss Hasegawa please give her a hand."

"Plan for something after Sunday," he told them. "I'll be out of town with Springfield-san until then."

Cries of Negi-sensei, -kun and –bozu fell from a dozen pairs of lips as Asuna wished sensei hadn't mentioned Negi's name. The student shuddered as she imagined the rumors that would be out before the end of the day. The class bell finally rang and she was happy to have not been called on to read. After sensei and Goodman-san left the room, Haruna pulled out her cell phone and started clicking buttons at a furious rate.

"What are you doing?" Yue asked her fellow library explorer.

"I'm just telling a few friends about Negi-kun leaving town," the class gossip monger answered.

Asuna stood up. "You're worse than the media at last year's festival," she declared. "Can't you let the kid go anywhere without broadcasting it over the school?"

Konoka got up next. "Asuna's right," she declared. "They're only going because Se-chan asked them."

The classroom was utterly silent save for the thump of Setsuna's head against the desk. Several more phones were pulled from pockets, pouches and packs as the clicking grew louder than the buzzing of cicadas on a summer's day. "Nice going," Asuna whispered to her roommate.

--

_The head master stared from underneath those outrageous eyebrows of his as she sat across the desk from him. "Are you still determined to do this?"_

_Unlike most times in his presence, Evangeline sat with her hands folded demurely in her lap. Instead of her normal, gothic attire, the undead mage wore a conservative skirt and jacket over her plain, white blouse. It seemed strange to be dressed so, but then hardly any of her looked the same these days._

_An assassin had been hired by her former employers and would likely have succeeded had not the headmaster been informed of the plot. The old fox had tricked her into switching bodies for the day, ensuring her continued existence. Only a handful of people at Mahora knew the vampire had survived the attempt, and fewer still knew she was posing as the school's newest teacher._

"_Not having second thoughts are you?" Evangeline asked._

"_Just making sure, hm hm, that you aren't," Konoemon answered. "Being responsible, hee, for 31 young ladies can be a daunting task."_

_She pushed a pair of tortoise shell spectacles up the bridge of her nose. "Are you saying you don't think I'm capable of it?"_

"_Not at all," he hastily responded. "But class 1P is, hm, considered most lively."_

"_Don't worry old man," she assured him. "I'm more than up to the challenge."_

"Yeah, right," Evangeline snorted derisively as she stepped into the stairwell of the teacher's dormitory. This morning she had naively assumed that a group of 31 adolescent girls would be easily managed; now she knew better. The students of her homeroom had indeed inherited the mantle of the middle school's "most lively" class from the new teacher's former schoolmates. They weren't to the party-at-the-drop-of-a-hat stage, but they did show promise in matching the efforts of the infamous trickster trio of Kasuga-san and the Narutaki twins.

'No falling erasures for that bunch,' she silently lamented, clutching a pair of ruined high heeled shoes, victims of quick-drying glue spread on floor in front of the blackboard. 'But how do I get the chewing gum out of my hair?'

As she reached the first landing, Evangeline suddenly found herself facing Phillip Markham. The man seemed just as surprised at their chance encounter, but his face showed no sign of recognition. Unconsciously, she pulled the front of her dress straight and addressed him in English. "Good afternoon."

"Good afternoon," he replied. "Oh, you must be the new middle school teacher?"

"Yes, Ishikawa Mareiko," Evangeline answered.

"Phillip Markham," the American responded. "Would you like a tissue?" he asked, noting the black smudges of eye liner on her face.

'Why do you have to see me like this?' the mage mentally cursed. "No thank you," she said aloud while reaching into her handbag.

"I have some right here," Evangeline explained then dropped the bag with a shriek.

"What's wrong Ishikawa-san?" the man asked.

"Some…something moved inside." They watched as a garden snake slithered out of the purse.

The irony of the moment was not lost on Evangeline. Called the "Mage Nosferatu" and "The Queen of Woe," she was feared by inhabitants of two worlds, but 31 little girls had reduced her to a quivering mass of flesh. She didn't resist when Markham-san offered to help her and soon found herself seated in the small kitchen of the teacher's apartment.

Phillip set a plastic container of a thick, brown paste on the counter and placed a scoopful in his hand. "What is that?" she asked.

"It's peanut butter," the American replied. Evangeline felt his hands start to rub the gooey paste into her hair around one of the pink wads. "The oils in it help to dissolve the adhesive in the gum."

"Would it be safe to say it was a rough first day?" he asked.

The smell of peanuts combined with that of the gum to create a nauseating mixture. "That's a trifle understated but yes." Phillip placed bits of loosened gum on the counter and continued to smear the horrid stuff into her hair.

His next question took her by surprise. "So what's your plan for tomorrow?"

"Well I thought I'd have two or three students lined up against the wall and executed," she offered.

"Too authoritative."

"Uh, put them on detention until graduation?"

"Too much like mom and dad."

Evangeline could feel several stands of hair pulled up and rubbed between his fingers. "What would you suggest then?"

"The first thing to do is establish a rapport with your students," Phillip explained. "You need to get their attention first so that they'll listen to you."

"That sounds easy enough," Evangeline said. "But how do I get their initial attention?"

"I realize that you're at a disadvantage since chemistry is really dull compared to English …"

"Now you're making fun of me."

"No, but I think you can give them a sample of what chemistry is that would grab more attention that reciting Shakespeare."

"All done," Phillip announced to her amazement. Several brown and pink gobs rested on the counter.

"Thank you Markham-san," she said. "I guess I need to make out a new lesson plan."

"My evening is open," he told her, "so I'd be happy to give you hand."

--

Concilium Magnus, Megalo-Messembria

Amber-colored eyes regarded him as the white and orange furred face hardened with resolve. The fox-man stood before the office door with arms folded across his chest. "For the last time," the guard warned, "if you want to talk with Karkolova-sama, you need to make an appointment with her secretary."

Professor Akashi matched the other's resolution. "And I can't wait around for a month," the dark-haired man responded. "I have a message for the Speaker from the head of the Kanto Magic Association."

"I you're on an official visit, then present your credentials to the protocol office."

"I'm on vacation," the professor said yet again. "All I need is 5 minutes of the Speaker's time."

The fox-man made no response save to stare at the human. The door behind him opened and a woman's voice said "Blast these last minute notices."

A woman, her reddish-brown hair falling over the shoulders of her ceremonial, white linen robe, hobbled into view, a cane in her right hand. "Gijou-san," she called, "I need to get to the Council Chamber."

"Right away Karkolova-sama," the guard replied. "Once I deal with this nuisance."

The professor bowed to the woman. "Greetings Speaker Karkolova," he said. "I bear a message from Konoe-sama of Mahora."

"Indeed," she remarked, giving the visitor an appraising glance. "And you are?"

"Akashi Yuji," he answered while straightening back up. "I'm a professor at Mahora University."

Regina Karkolova's face was impassive as she thought over his words. "I would very much like to hear this message Akashi-san," she replied. "But an urgent matter demands my attention right now."

"If you can wait while attend to it," the woman continued, "I'll talk with you afterwards."

"Certainly," Akashi told her.

Sometime later, they sat in the Speaker's office, Akashi sipped from his cup as Regina slowly stirred a lump of sugar into her tea. "I trust your business went well?" he asked politely.

"Well enough," Regina answered. "I haven't seen Konoe-sama since shortly after being appointed to the Council. How is he?"

"He's still as active as ever," the professor answered. "But he is very concerned about recent events in both worlds."

"As am I Akashi-san," the woman replied. "You said you have a message for me?"

"The headmaster wishes you a speedy recovery," the professor responded. "And he wants you to know that he fully backs your efforts to keep the gates open."

"I appreciate the support, but unfortunately that doesn't equate to votes on the Council."

"That is true Karkolova-sama," Akashi remarked. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"Go ahead professor."

Akashi removed a fresh cigarette pack from his coat and unwrapped the plastic cover. He tapped the package against two fingers until a cigarette stuck out enough to be removed. "Would you care for one?"

"Don't mind if I do," Regina answered. As he stepped over to her, the woman added, "It's amazing how much better the imported stuff is over the domestic."

"Then please accept this," he said, handing her the pack.

Her hand took hold of the package and immediately it went into a pocket. "I'll save these for later."

"Where are you headed to on your vacation professor?" the Speaker asked.

"I've always wanted to visit Ariadne," Akashi told her. "I thought to take a nice, leisurely cruise on a whaleship."

--

Hiro stood near the hotel's transport balcony, waiting for Ray Blaze to appear. He had met the tiger-man in the hotel's bar the previous day and spent several hours buying drinks for him and several companions. Though the professor balked at the tab, he was impressed by information his assistant had unearthed. So when the assassin casually mentioned he had been invited to the Professional Gladiator Association's convention, Glad-Con, Akashi took the bait.

Not knowing what to expect, Hiro had ditched his normal attire for a pair of dark slacks and a grey sweatshirt with the words Mahora University across the front. Above the other guest's heads, he could see a flash of vivid orange as the crowd parted to let the lethal-looking tiger-man by. Raising a hand in greeting, the gladiator called out to him, "Morning Oishi-san."

"Good morning Blaze-san," he replied as a small, winged figure darted towards him and flitted from one side of his face to the other. It looked like a woman, no taller than the distance between the tips his thumb and forefinger if Hiro stretched them as far apart as possible. A set of filmy wings were in constant motion as she moved about, reminding him of a hummingbird.

"Oishi-san, I'd like you to meet my partner," the gladiator explained. "This is Lim Deis."

"Uh, nice to meet you Deis-san."

The winged fairy made several noises that sounded like the tinkling of bells to Hiro. He thought it must be some form of communication as Ray burst out in laughter. "What did she say Blaze-san?"

"She said there is more to you than your appearance suggests," the tiger-man answered. "And she thinks you're too cute to hide behind such big, ugly glasses."

Too stunned to reply, he just stared as the tiny figure gave him a wink and flew back to her partner, landing upon the gladiator's shoulder. The group stepped out onto the balcony and hailed a passing killer whale. "Take us to the Campus Martius Arena," Ray told the cabby.

As they rose into the air, Hiro glanced behind and noticed a squid with two riders, at a discreet distance. The squid followed them to the convention hall and hovered a few blocks back as the whale deposited its passengers. The young man wondered whether his watchers would venture into the convention or just patiently wait outside.

The Campus Martius was another huge, circular construct, with the main arena surrounded by four, smaller ones. During the major tournaments, matches would be held in all five stadiums with those expecting the biggest draws in the Circus Maximus as the largest arena was known. Banners proudly proclaiming '_Welcome to Glad-Con_' hung from every available surface. Most also had the words '_What We Do in Life Echoes in Eternity_' directly underneath. Hiro saw the long line of people waiting to get inside and was happy to be avoiding that crowd. "I didn't realize gladiators were so popular."

"Most of us laughed when we heard the idea," Ray admitted. "But after last year's Springfield Cup was interrupted, we were desperate to try anything to promote interest."

"They expect over 200,000 paying customers today, so I guess it was a good idea," his companion continued. "But we're still leery over being called gladiators instead of prize fighters."

"Why is that Blaze-san?" Hiro asked as they entered through the guest's door.

"Up to the last 15 years or so, gladiators were slaves," the tiger-man answered. "They fought, making money for their owners and hoping to one day earn their freedom."

The fighter stopped in front of a booth selling posters and pointed to one of a large man, with several scars running down his arms and across his bare chest. "That's Jacobus Rakan, the greatest gladiator of his time but a slave," his companion told him. "To be a prize fighter means that we are freemen who keep the money our sweat earns. But none of us can deny the hold that the word gladiator has on the public."

"I could be enjoying spring break on an Elysian beach right now," Hiro heard a girl's voice scornfully comment. "But you have to drag us halfway across the world to attend a convention."

Hiro turned to see three teen-aged girls walking towards him. The speaker had long, blonde hair that was tied into two pony tails and a pair of goat-like ears stuck out from underneath. She was accompanied by a girl wearing glasses who had short, blonde hair, and two black, floppy ears with white tips. The third girl had short, black hair and seemed entirely human. All three wore a red velvet cloak over what looked like school uniforms. Each cloak was secured by a clasp resembling outstretched wings.

"Aw come on class rep," the floppy eared girl replied. "Where else can you find all this neat Nagi merchandise?" she asked as she hefted her six bags.

"Almost anywhere," the goat-eared teen replied. "And for a lot less."

"Hey," her companion exclaimed as she jogged over to Hiro's group. "Aren't you Ray Blaze?"

"Here, hold these Emily," she said, passing the bags to the surprised class rep. She pulled out a red, leather covered book and a pen. "Could I please have your autograph Blaze-san?"

With fingers ill-suited to the task, the tiger-man grasped the pen and began to scrawl his name upon a blank sheet of paper. "Is it true that you were the first to lose to Springfield-san last year?"

Hiro could see the black banded end of the fighter's tail curl into a tight ball as it started to switch back and forth but the polite smile remained on his face. "That's right," Ray answered. "He and his partner, Oogami-san, knocked us out of the Minerva Cup in the first round."

"Would you like my partner's autograph?" he asked, nodding to the forest sprite seated on his shoulder.

Hiro grinned as he watched the tiny creature place the pen against her shoulder and write her name in the album. "So are you a student at Mahora?" the dark-haired girl asked him as she read the letters off the front of his sweatshirt.

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm a freshman at the university."

"So you aren't a gladiator too?" the autograph seeker asked.

"No, I'm Blaze-san's sycophant," the young man replied.

Her face screwed up in confusion. "What's a sycophant?" she asked, causing Emily to roll her eyes and the dark-haired girl to stifle a giggle.

"C'mon Collet," the class rep said as she started to walk away. "You too Beatrix."

The trio moved on down the hall and Collet squealed, "Ooh, they have Nagi sunglasses over here."

"Collet!" Emily cried and started to chase after the fleeing teen. Beatrix glanced back at Hiro, shrugged her shoulders and hurried to catch up with the other two.

"So that's a fangirl?" Hiro mused aloud.

He heard the sound of softly chiming bells and faced the duo as Ray nodded his head and responded, "I think so too."

"What do you think so too?"

"That dark-haired girl," the tiger-man answered. "Lim-san was just saying that you may have picked up a fan too?"

Hiro glanced back at the three girls now gathered about a vendor's table. 'Let's hope not,' the assassin thought to himself. 'For both of our sakes, it would be best if we never meet again.'

Hiro found the conversations on the convention floor a wealth of information as the gladiators, managers, the media, fans and vendors mingled together. Like people from his world, there was the normal grumbling against over regulation, taxes and red tape; underneath it all seemed to be a deeper current of discontent. He had been briefed on the Great North/South War of a generation ago, and those sectional politics still existed, but another layer had been added atop that. The nations in the east were arguing for a strong, central authority while their western brethren wanted to maintain their traditional independence, to chart their own course as many put it.

It seemed his hosts were fairly popular as the autograph requests kept on throughout the morning. After a few hours of mixing with the crowds as he put it, the tiger-man lead them to a side door with a sign that read 'gladiatores cubile' posted next to it. "This is a longue for the fighters," Ray explained as they walked in. Hiro glanced about the room, noticing several of the fighters he had met in the bar the previous evening as well as a huge figure with reptilian features trying to find a comfortable position on a couch. He had to be a good 2.3 meters tall with a tail nearly that long.

The door behind him opened and someone barged straight into Hiro. "Hey, watch it buster," a belligerent voice told him. "This isn't a parking zone."

Hiro saw that the speaker was a human, slightly taller than himself with dark hair piled up in spikes, resembling nothing so much as a rooster's comb. The stranger was dressed in a pair of baggy pants and a vest, open to reveal his chest. His face had a permanent sneer etched on it. Three other men hovered behind him.

"Sorry," Hiro mumbled.

The stranger gave Hiro the once over and the sneer grew more pronounced. "Can't you read the sign kid?" the man asked. "This room is for gladiators not the public."

"He's with me Tosaka-san," Ray said in a voice that rumbled around the room.

The newcomers pushed past Hiro and confronted the tiger-man. "You may be part of Granicus Fortes this season," Tosaka declared, "But you better not step out of your place or you'll be back in the bush."

Hiro noticed the end of his companion's tail had curled as it began to lash back and forth, a sign he had come to associate with annoyance. "It's okay Blaze-san," the assassin said. "I'll just step out."

"You'll do more than that," Tosaka replied. In an instant, the man stood next to him and swung his fist, striking Hiro on the side of the face. He landed on his seat and could taste the blood that trickled from the side of his mouth. He gazed up at the figure standing over him, the man's mouth stretched wide in a grin. "Don't get smart with me punk," he said then stalked off towards his companions who were busy congratulating their leader.

'Basic technique, but fast,' the assassin thought. 'Fast, like that Kotaro kid.' For a moment, Hiro recalled stepping into the corridor and distracting the guard. The elementary-aged boy seemed to materialize next to the gunman, taking him out with a couple of punches. "Not bad," Hiro remarked, picking himself off the floor. "Feel like giving that another shot?"

All four men laughed in response. "What's your problem college boy?" one of them asked. "You into getting beat up?"

"No, it's just your friend's nowhere near as good as he thinks he is," the assassin answered. "Off course if he'd rather sit in the corner and have you all jerk him off …"

The room grew quiet except for the sounds of people moving away from the immediate area. Tosaka's eyes narrowed as the grin slid off his face. "I was going to take it easy on you, but now I'm going to enjoy tearing your head off."

Hiro replied by moving into a stance.

"Hope your insurance covers the funeral," Tosaka taunted.

"Don't worry," he shot back. "I know all about filing claims."

Hiro glanced down at the floor as Nagase-sensei's words came to him. "The eye is a marvelous tool," the kunoichi said as she fitted the blind fold around his head. "But it can fool you into accepting what it expects to see."

"Those who cannot see are able to navigate through a forest in either day or night," she explained. "Learn to use all of your senses."

"Listen." He heard the scuff of shoes on the carpet. "Feel." A current of suddenly displaced air struck his face and Hiro ducked under his opponent's arm. Without conscious thought, he grabbed the other man's wrist, turned and rose. Tosaka's feet lifted off the ground and a moment later his back slammed across a table top.

Hiro let go of the man's arm and stepped back. Had it been Nagase-sensei, he would be the one groaning right now. "Bastard!" one Tosaka's companions shouted. Before they could avenge their friend, the tiger-man and sprite were in their path.

"Three on one isn't very sporting gentlemen," Ray said with a tone that was calm yet menacing at the same time.

"Stay out of this," one of the three told the tiger-man. "Or you'll be on the street."

The reptile-man loomed behind them. "I think Blaze-san is just suggesting we cool off," the creature remarked in a rasping voice. "All kinds of accidents happen in the heat of the moment."

In the end, a healer was sent for and the assassin made himself scarce. 'Way to keep below the radar,' Hiro thought as he ambled along a corridor. The young man could have, should have, walked away without egging the creep on; it was as if he wanted to push beyond the point he could handle, like back at Mahora.

His Grandfather had trained him for one end, to kill. By hand, by bullet or by explosive didn't matter, just do the job and go on. But that had all changed over a few weeks the previous summer. Although Ayaka had been a big part of it, she wasn't the sole reason for the change. 'What was it that tattooed girl said?' Hiro tried to remember. Zazie had declared that he was bound to those girls. When Kotaro accused him of wanting to be stopped, the boy was only partly right. Hiro wanted that bond broken, yet it seemed stronger than even a four story fall.

Once again, the young man was aware of being followed, this time by one of Tosaka's buddies. A quick check located the other two men circling round like sharks. He ducked into the men's room and finding it otherwise unoccupied, stepped onto one of the stools and pressed against a ceiling tile. It moved confirming that it was a simple drop ceiling. Hiro lifted himself up and waited until he heard the door open. He dropped a small, cylinder-shaped container into the bowl below and fit the tile back into place.

The water bubbled and hissed like a witch's cauldron and belched out a thick, yellowish cloud that rapidly filled the washroom. Two men choked on the sulfurous fumes and desperately searched for the exit. Meanwhile, Hiro climbed across several meters of struts and supports, removed a tile a dropped into the adjoining ladies room. "What are you doing in here?" a shrill voice cried.

The dark-haired girl wearing a red cloak stood in front of a row of sinks, her wand in hand and pointed straight at him. Hiro recalled that her name was Beatrix. "I have a really good explanation."

"Start talking."

A few minutes later, the door banged open as the third friend ran inside the ladies' room. "What is this? A raceway?" he heard from the other side of a closed stall. A pair of legs wearing white socks and black oxfords was visible below the door.

He saw the ceiling tile out of position. "I'm looking for a guy."

"In the women's room?" the girl's voice replied. "What kind of pervert are you?"

"Did you hear anything?" he asked.

"I heard something hit the floor then what sounded like somebody bolt out of here," the girl answered. "Now will you leave or do I start screaming?"

"Keep your shirt on."

"I have a wand," the voice threatened. "And I'm not afraid to use it."

The two teens breathed a sigh of relief when the man finally departed. The girl straddled the assassin's lap while the boy's legs stuck out straight ahead, feet pressed against the stall door. "How long do we stay like this?" Beatrix asked.

"Not too much longer."

"I can only imagine what my classmates would say if they could see me," the girl remarked. "I'm sitting on a boy's lap and I don't even know his name."

"It's Oishi," he told her. "Oishi Kuranosuke."

"Well Oishi-san," Beatrix said, "you certainly know how to make powdering your nose exciting."

--

Mahora, Japan

Elevator doors opened soundlessly, letting the woman onto her floor. She fished through the voluminous, black handbag, extracting a set of keys. Minamoto Shizuna, special assistant to the dean, unlocked the door and walked into her modest apartment. Most days she appreciated having a place away from the campus, but she didn't look forward to the commute on busy days like today. Tired feet slipped out of shoes and padded softly to the bathroom. In a short while, the woman luxuriated in a tub of hot, sudsy water, as aches and pains slowly soaked away.

The task facing them was daunting to say the least. Yet Shizuna believed that the headmaster's vision of Mahora was worth fighting for, even if not one of them survived. That possibility grew larger with each passing day. For herself, she knew where this path could lead; her concern was for those students that didn't. Girls like Mana, Kaede and Setsuna had faced these dangers before, while a few others, like Ayaka and Satsuki, had the maturity to understand, but too many saw this as some sort of video game adventure, even after the class trip.

She heard a knock upon the front door and reluctantly got out of the bath. Wrapping a towel around herself, Shizuna walked through the living room. 'It better not be that perverted building manager,' the woman thought as she looked through the peep hole. What she saw brought a gasp of surprise and she swiftly opened the door. The man in the wizard's robe, holding the staff shaped like a bolt of lightning, smiled as he recognized her. "Hello Shizuna-kun."

"Wh-what are you doing here?"

His face had a sallow, unhealthy color to it and eyes a yellowish tint. "I need your help," he said then crumpled, falling against her as he fainted.

**A/N – The chapter title and heading are from 'Marmion: A Tale of Flodden Field' by Walter Scott. The quote 'What we do in life echoes in eternity' is from the movie 'Gladiator' which I think it would make a good, double feature with 'Ala Rubra, The Movie.'**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: I did mention something last chapter about spur to output did I not. I probably won't add another chapter soon, so you'll have a chance to catch your breath. In truth, these last two chapters are really a single one, but I decided to split it in two as well as add a few, extra scenes.**

**Now for some thank you's. To Makuhari-Fan01 who graciously allowed me to borrow Chao-as-a-program from 'Ala Alba in the World of Magic.' I found the name a bit long to keep typing, so I've shortened it to v-Chao, for virtual-Chao. To Fionn the Otaku who suggested the meeting between Asuna and Ayaka. And to Midnight-Sleeper for his wise janitor, Barry.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns 'Negima.' Phillip Markham and Regina Karkolova are my characters.**

**The following conventions are use: **"words", 'thoughts', "**spells**", '_reading_', and _memories_

**Mirror of the Mind, Secrets of the Heart**

_The face is the mirror of the mind, and eyes without speaking confess the secrets of the heart _

–**Saint Jerome**

Mahora, Japan

_A cloud of dust made the room hazy and caused his throat to burn as he gulped down another lungful of __air. Al looked to be in a pretty bad way, but the mage had to check to make sure their opponent was finished. He half dragged himself across the rubble-strewn floor to the robed form that lay still. He could hear the wheeze of the other's labored breathing and the wizard gathered power to him for one, final spell._

"_Still alive there Nagi?" his opponent asked weakly. "I think that last one did it."_

_Nearly on top of the fallen man, the Thousand Master could see the rapidly spreading area where blood soaked into his opponent's robe. His adversary had once been a friend and ally, but had turned against them all. "Why Kozimos?" he asked. "Why did you do it?"_

"_I doubt a simple mind such as yours will understand," the white-haired figure said, "but I was trying to correct our mistake."_

"_We may not approve of their means but Total World's aims were right," he continued. "Our world needs a strong hand to guide it … to save us from ourselves."_

"_I don't buy that for a minute," Nagi said._

"_No, you wouldn't," the dying man replied. "In my pocket is something you should have. I'm sorry it turned out this way … I really am."_

_The Thousand Master watched as his enemy's eyes rolled back into his skull and the rise and fall of chest ceased. Cautiously, he reached a hand into the robe's pocket. He fingers touched metal and drew out a small, wing-shaped badge, battered and blood-stained. It had been Nagi's Crimson Wing badge; the one he had left for his unborn child. The wizard clutched it tightly as a different pain tore into his gut._

He became aware of a sizzle and the smell of frying bacon. Nagi opened his eyes to find himself lying on a couch covered in a soft, floral pattern. Beneath his head was a pillow and a peach-colored blanket covered his body up to his chin. Several magazines with Japanese characters liberally splashed across the covers lay on the nearby coffee table.

"Are you awake yet?" he heard Shizuna ask as the blond-haired woman strode in from the kitchen. She set a tray on the table as the mage sat up. The blanket fell around his waist, revealing a bare and battle-scarred chest.

"Where are my clothes?" he asked.

"Well good morning to you too Nagi," she replied.

"Good morning Shizuna-kun," the man replied while his stomach gurgled at the sight of food. "Is that for me?"

She sat down on the cushion he had deserted. "Yes," she replied with a grin. "And your clothes are hanging up in the bathroom. I didn't want those filthy rags on my furniture so I cleaned them."

"Thank you," Nagi said as he picked up a fork and dug into breakfast. "This is really good."

He was aware of her eyes watching him as he wolfed down the food, barely taking the time to chew it. Once her gaze had been of worshipful adoration, later it had been one of desire; but that had been long ago. Now the woman studied him as if the mage were a scientific specimen. In short order, he placed the empty plate back down.

"Well I see you still like my cooking," Shizuna remarked.

"I always found it your most attractive quality," he teased.

"Flatterer," the woman responded. "I don't imagine you came all this way to faint in my arms. What's the matter?"

"I need to get to Kyoto Shizuna-kun," Nagi told her. "And I need to do it without letting anyone else know I'm here."

"Negi-san is going to Kyoto," she commented. "This wouldn't happen to be related by chance?"

"Do I really need to answer that?"

"No, but you do need to tell me one thing," Shizuna said. She went over to her purse and pulled her pactio card out. "I don't have to use this to know the condition you're in. Why Nagi?"

The Thousand Master looked away, unwilling to meet her gaze. The words came slowly, as if he was unsure of the direction he was going. "I got tired of remembering," he admitted. "It helped me to forget for a little while."

He could hear her footsteps across the carpeted floor; out of the corner of his eye he saw Shizuna kneel down and place a hand on his knee. "Look at me Nagi," she ordered and reluctantly he obeyed.

"You need treatment Nagi," she told him. "Let me call for help."

"No."

"Don't be stubborn. You need help."

"How I chose to go to hell is my business."

"There's more than you involved you selfish baka," she replied. Though her voice was reproachful, Nagi could see the tears forming. "Try thinking about the others that care about you."

"I am," Nagi said, feeling the burning in his own eyes. "Please Shizuna-kun, help me get to Kyoto."

--

Girls' Middle School Mahora, Japan

Class 1P arrived in their homeroom to find a note to report to the school's science lab. The students milled uncertainly in front of the locked laboratory, whispering among themselves. Some of them wondered if their new teacher was trying to avoid a repeat of the previous day. If so, they said in conspiratorial tones, she sadly misjudged their ingenuity. Ishikawa-sensei appeared in the doorway, though no one could recall her opening the door. The teacher ushered them into the room and bade them find their seats.

Overhead lights were oddly dim, giving the room a gloomy cast and allowing shadows to gather cobweb-like in the corners. High spirited as the students were, the atmosphere of the laboratory left them in a state of watchful unease, as if caught in a spooky mansion as evening was descending. Several items were arranged on the front table, but a glass beaker with liquid bubbling in it caught their attention.

"Centuries ago our ancestors walked this same land as we do," their teacher said. "While the hills and valleys have changed little over that time, how we view this world is vastly different."

As she spoke, Evangeline removed the stopper from a vial and carefully measured three drops of the unknown chemical into the boiling liquid. It hissed and caused the mixture to turn a dark red like the color of congealed blood. "They saw the world as a mysterious place, ruled by kami who could as easily curse as bless an individual or an entire nation."

Vapors billowed from the beaker, and formed into a slender column that rose sinuously into the air. "Some made offerings to these fickle seeming spirits, while others chose a different path to knowledge by observing, testing and recording."

To the student's amazement, the smoke writhed like a living thing and snake-like features formed. "These ancient scientists sought to understand the incomprehensible, to define the limits of the infinite, to unlock the very secrets of heaven and earth; and they passed their knowledge to apprentices who in turn passed it to others down through the ages."

The misty serpent fixed them with a baleful stare then lunged forward, causing several girls to gasp aloud, but dissipated into a series of perfect rings that harmlessly floated down the aisle between the lab tables. "Yet for every fact we know about the world, it seems a hundred more lie in wait for us."

"Matsouka-san," Evangeline called. "Come up here."

Hesitantly, the student approached the table as if expecting another snake to jump from hiding at her. "What is in the bowl here?" the woman asked.

"It's ice sensei."

"And can ice burn?"

The girl's face had a surprised expression as she answered, "Of course it can't"

At that, Evangeline smiled. Following her instructions, Matsouka-san lit a match and dropped it into the bowl only to have flames bust forth and blaze a few seconds above the frozen cubes. "So perhaps the facts we have aren't as complete as we would like to think," the mage observed.

Several more demonstrations were made, introducing her class to cotton balls that burst into flame just from body heat or a liquid that grew solid as they rubbed it in their hands only to liquefy again when the motion stopped. By the end of the period, she had their attention. Now the challenge was keeping it where it needed to be.

--

Girls' Dormitory Mahorha, Japan

"Anya-san," Chachamaru called. In response, the girl looked up from homework piled on her desk, and her scowl deepened when she saw the key in the gynoid's hand. "I was wondering if you could wind me up?"

"I didn't mean to bother you," the robot apologized as she noted the sour expression on her roommate's face. "I can ask Negi-san if you are too busy."

"No! No need to ask Negi," Anya hastily replied, rising from her chair. The last thing she wanted was for her childhood friend to play with the mechanical girl's gears.

The robotic student sat in a chair and moved her light green colored hair aside, revealing a small, round hole. Anya slid the key inside, grasped the ends with both hands and began twisting it around. The act of tightening her classmates' main spring made the twelve-year-old queasy, though she couldn't say why. Perhaps it was the fact that while Chachamaru was a life-sized doll, she was an amply endowed one.

'Why did they give her such big boobs?' the youngster wondered, bemoaning her own lack in that regard. 'Must have been a boy that designed her.'

'And why do guys get so turned on by a couple mounds of silicone anyway?' she continued thinking while turning the key. 'It's not like they're good for anything.'

'Even Mister Markham was staring at them,' Anya thought, remembering her teacher's reaction to seeing the robot maid in her lingerie. 'I'd have thought someone his age wouldn't care about stuff like that.'

"You used to live in London didn't you Anya?" her classmate asked, jarring the young girl from her thoughts.

"Yes, I worked as a fortune teller on Brompton Road," she answered. Immediately upon graduation, she and the other students were given scrolls. Negi's sent him off to Japan to teach at Mahora, while Anya's sent her to London. The school arranged for the flat she stayed in and assigned an observer to watch over her, keeping the fledgling mage from making mistakes that could reveal the presence of magic to others, but it felt to Anya like she was on her own.

"What was it like?"

"London was really cool," Anya replied. "All the shops, the clubs …"

"No," Chachamaru interrupted. "I meant what was it like to work as a fortune teller?"

"Oh that was fun too," she told the robot. "I got to meet lots of interesting people every day."

"Most expected you to tell them what they wanted to hear," the youngster continued. "Some were just so lonely, they wanted somebody to talk to."

"And a few came to me with real problems." The girl's face brightened for a moment, forgetting the grumpy expression she normally wore. "Those were the best because I could help them."

"What about when their future didn't look so bright?"

"Then I could help them to prepare," she stated. "How much longer do I need to keep winding?"

"I think we're done," Chachamaru responded. "Thank you Anya-san."

"You're welcome," the girl said. "Why are you so interested in work all of the sudden?"

"I don't feel right about letting Chisame-san buy all those clothes for me," the gynoid answered. "I'm thinking about getting a job so I could pay her back and be able to buy my own things."

"Are you allowed to do that as a student?"

"Certainly," the robot assured her. "The school policy states that as long as the student maintains acceptable progress and the work does not have the potential for loss of life or limb, students may work outside of school hours."

--

Mahora, Japan

The glade resounded with echoes as the two opponents battled across its length. Asuna saw the blur of Setsuna's blade as the bokuto slashed towards her ribs. Though only made of wood, the school girl was well aware of how painful the blow would be if it connected. Quickly, she angled her harisen down, deflecting the attack, but leaving her open as the other girl's foot struck her chest. The force knocked Asuna back, but she turned the momentum to her favor and flipped away from the follow up stroke.

She landed into a crouch, her fan held in front and a look of grim determination on her face. Without conscious effort, Asuna's kanka coalesced into her weapon as she swung the harisen in a sweeping arc. The meadow's grass bent under the force as it rippled forward and struck Setsuna, carrying the hanyo along like so many papers caught by a wind gust.

Setsuna landed on her feet, her face beaming with pleasure. "A perfectly executed Jakuzankusen Asuna-san," she said. "My compliments."

"I had a good teacher," the bell-wearing teen replied, grinning at the praise.

"Are your two ready for a break?" Konoka shouted from the sideline.

Pupil and teacher bowed to one another and then headed to where Konoka waited with a basket full of water bottles. "That was fantastic Asuna," the young healer said.

"Indeed it was," a familiar voice called from the edge of the trees. Three heads twisted about to see the speaker step out from the shadows. "One might almost call it magical."

"Iincho-san," Konoka cried.

"What do you want Ayaka?" Asuna asked, annoyed at being spied upon.

"I wanted to see how you spent your afternoons since it obviously isn't studying for school," the blonde girl answered. "So are you all wizards too or are you going to tell me that was CGI like at the festival?"

"It wasn't CGI," Konoka answered. "Since Grandfather swore you to secrecy, there's no reason to pretend anymore."

"I'm no wizard," Asuna insisted. "I can't cast spells or anything like that."

"So what are you?" Ayaka asked. "And what's going on?"

Asuna knew she wasn't the brightest person in the school, but even she could hear the hurt and anger in the class president's voice. Ayaka could be self-serving, clueless, overbearing and several other adjectives on top of those, but she had been there many of the times Asuna needed somebody. They might be eternal rivals, but certainly her classmate deserved some consideration.

"I'd really like to help," the blonde-haired girl told them. "But I can't if you continue to hide the truth from me."

"Then have a seat," Asuna replied, indicating a blanket spread upon the ground. "I guess I should start with the day Negi-bozu arrived."

'Sheesh,' Asuna thought to herself. 'This is going to take a looong time.'

They sat into the early evening as Asuna, with Konoka and Setsuna's help, explained the events that had happened since the young boy came to Mahora. For her part, the class rep listened, asked questions and went over points until she was satisfied with the answers. "And there you have it," Asuna said. She felt as wrung out as if completing one of Evangeline's infamous training sessions.

Ayaka's expression was impassive as the girl sat silently, thinking over all that Asuna had told her. Of course, she didn't mention everything to the class rep. Some things, like Setsuna's heritage, she had no right to discuss. Her own history was another, but then the girl didn't understand it herself, so explaining it to somebody else was out of the question.

Like a fairy tale come to life, Asuna had been born into the royal family of Vespetatia, a small but important kingdom in the Mundus Magicus. Early on it was noted that magic acted strangely around the little princess, wildly fluctuating in duration and intensity whenever she was around. Whispers of this strange power passed from ear to ear and people began to say that her majesty was a warrior goddess reborn. Then one day they no longer saw her as a child but rather a weapon; a sword to be feared and used.

They built a tower and shut the princess inside, forgetting about her existence until they wanted to unsheathe their sword. How long the child stayed in that tower, Asuna didn't know, but eventually her knight in shining armor arrived and Nagi Springfield rescued her from that terrible dungeon. It was maddening not to be able to remember her past save in little flashes here and there, or in the form of vaguely disturbing dreams. But a part of her quailed at the thought of knowing all; afraid to open the box, like Pandora, and unleash its unknown contents.

"How can I help?" Ayaka asked as her three classmates simultaneously took on with a deer in the headlights look. "I'm not trying to horn in on your Negi club, okay?"

"Asuna proved I don't have the physical skills to offer, and I don't have any magic," the class rep continued. "But there must be something I can do. Do you want me to try and find more information on this Cabal?"

"That might not be a good idea Ayaka-san," Konoka answered. "Such questions might attract our enemies' attention or at the least let them know you're involvement."

"Beside, I'm sure Grandfather is using those same sources," the brown-haired girl continued. "He and your grandfather were classmates here, and the Yukihiro family has always been closely associated with the school."

"So what does that leave?" the blonde student asked, but none of them had an answer.

--

Girls' Dormitory Mahora, Japan

Madoka stood in the mail room, impatiently drumming her fingers on the counter as the clerk, a new guy who didn't look old enough to be working there, searched for her parcel. When she saw the yellow slip this morning, the student thought her parents had finally sent that webcam she had begged for ever since Misa had received one from her father. She was surprised to have a customs form shoved toward her. 'I don't know anyone in Los Angeles,' the girl thought as she read the port of origin block on the paperwork.

The clerk set a package nearly as long as the Narutaki's were tall on the counter. The box had an odd shape, being rather flat with one end considerably wider than the other. "No information on who sent it?" she asked.

"Sorry," the boy responded. "Just the name of the shipping company."

Though bulky, the package didn't weigh more than Madoka could carry. Still mystified, the teen walked into her room, set the box down and went in search of a pair of scissors. She carefully slit the strapping tape and was removing handfuls of the insulating pellets when she saw a flash of blue and red. Her hands touched the varnished surface as she drew out an electric guitar. A Sonic edition Stratocaster guitar to be specific; the very same she had coveted during the class trip.

"Why do the teacher's dorms have to be so far away?" Madoka thought as she stepped down the hall, carefully noting the name plates mounted on doors. The student stopped in front of room 222 and was about to knock when music exploded from the other side. Though she pounded several times, whoever was in the room couldn't hear it over the rumble of an electric organ.

Finding the door unlocked, Madoka saw Markham-sensei's back as he played on the keyboard. Her teacher wore a pair of headphones and seemed oblivious to everything but the music. Grinning to herself, the short-haired student walked over and lightly tapped the man's shoulder.

Phillip spun around in surprise and then smiled as he recognized his student. "Hello Madoka-san," he shouted. "What are you doing here?" Sheepishly realizing he still had the headphones on, Phillip slipped them off. She could hear the song the man had been playing along with.

The girl felt her stomach do a slow roll as he continued. "What do I owe the pleasure of this visit too?"

"I received this in the mail today," she answered, holding out the guitar. "Here, I can't accept it."

"Okay, but why tell me?" Phillip grinned as he spoke. "I didn't buy it."

"But …"

"You can return it," the man continued, "but you're going to hurt Negi-san's feelings."

Madoka's mouth fell open in response. It took several attempts but she finally stammered "Negi-kun bought this for me?"

"He was upset over how you lost yours at the graduation party."

Madoka recalled the class party at the end of their final year of middle school. Dekopin Rocket had been performing on stage when one of the festival's stripper-bots broke into the room. Her poor guitar had shattered when she struck the rampaging machine with it.

"Seems pretty heartless of you, especially after he went to all that trouble."

"Sensei I …"

"Maybe it's best to put friendship aside and maintain a proper distance since you are a student and he a teacher."

"No. Wait," the flustered girl said. "I didn't mean …"

Suddenly, it dawned on Madoka that Phillip was teasing. "You are an evil man!" she shouted as he began to shake.

"Stop that," she said, lightly punching the man's arm but unable to keep from laughing herself. "You did it to me again."

"Sorry Madoka-san, it's a bad habit" he apologized and scooted over to edge of the bench. "However, it does mean a lot to Negi-san to be able to replace your instrument."

"I couldn't hurt Negi-kun," the girl admitted as she sat next to her teacher. "So did you pick up the organ in California too?"

"Yes, but I'll have you know that this is far more than an organ," Phillip replied. "I can switch between piano, organ, guitar or synthesizer, add in a drum or bass line; it's a virtual band."

"You wouldn't want to try it out would you?" he asked.

"Okay," she responded. "What song where you playing when I came?"

"I was playing along with one of my favorite CD's," he answered. "It's called 'Foreplay' by the band Boston."

"Oh, I've heard of them," the girl said. "They're always being played on the oldies radio station."

Madoka, noting the change in the man's expression, asked, "Is something wrong sensei?"

"Nothing," Phillip replied. "I was in high school when that album came out."

Madoka wasn't sure how long they'd been playing, but eventually, the teen began to feel the effects of too many sodas at lunch so her teacher offered the use of his bathroom. As she walked through sensei's bedroom, the girl was struck by how bare it seemed. The desk, chair, bed and dresser were no more than the students had. The only decorations were the feathered fan and a framed, black and white photograph of a woman. It was the room of someone who expected to be here a short time and though she had only known Markham-sensei for a month, that thought was disturbing.

Several minutes later, the girl stepped back into the living area, adjusting her skirt as she entered the room. "I feel much better," she announced. "Could we do this again soon?"

It was then Madoka discovered that Markham-sensei had company. A heavy-set woman with black hair, wearing a pair of glasses, stared at her for a moment then turned towards Phillip. "I see you were establishing a rapport with your student," the stranger commented, her tone decidedly frosty.

"This isn't what you're thinking Ishakawa-san," her teacher quickly said. "Madoka-san, please explain what we were doing."

"Oh, sensei was letting me play with his organ," she cheerfully replied.

The temperature in the room plummeted, turning as frigid as the cafeteria's freezer. Little veins popped out of the woman's forehead while sensei's face turned a deep, crimson color. "Should I rephrase that?" the teen asked.

"No," Phillip groaned and then covered his eyes with a hand. "I think we're way beyond damage control now."

--

Girls' Gym Mahora, Japan

With the upcoming Golden Week break only three days away, few students were inclined to use the school's gymnasium. In fact, it would have been locked at 7 pm if Ayaka hadn't been able to persuade the janitor to leave it open for her use. She'd have to remember to send a letter to Kobayashi-san's superiors so they'd know what a fine job he was doing.

After completing stretching, the girl stood and began to practice her forms. Since the age of 4 when her instruction in the martial arts began, Ayaka had practiced with the same diligence she gave to her other studies. The girl had earned her first black belt at the age of 12 and had developed her own jutsu since. Despite an impressive list of accomplishments, she saw herself as a failure in the one thing that mattered most. Negi-kun didn't need her.

For a moment the heir of the Yukihiro family faltered, but resolve swiftly suffused her spirit, giving her the determination to carry on. Her former teacher may not need her right now, but Ayaka would change that. Most people saw her as the spoiled daughter of a filthy rich industrialist, and they were right to an extent. However, few bothered to delve below the surface and see the real her. Yes, she had been born with the proverbial silver spoon in mouth, able to purchase whatever her whim might desire. But she had worked hard, gaining on her own those things that money couldn't buy. Ayaka realized she might never earn her classmates' friendship, but by all that was holy, she would earn their respect and the right to stand at Negi-kun's side.

It was then that the class rep became aware of another's presence. How long that person had been watching she didn't know, but Ayaka refused to stop in acknowledgement. When she completed practice, she greeted her guest, "Good evening Kaede-san."

The tall Kunochi stepped into view. "Good evening to you Ayaka-dono," Kaede responded. "Your forms are excellent."

"Thank you for saying so, but I still have far to go," she replied. "That's why I asked you to come here."

Her classmate said nothing, just looked through squinty eyes with that bland smile of hers plastered across her face. "I can't prepare for what's ahead on my own," Ayaka continued. "I need help to improve if I'm to be of any assistance to Team Negi or anyone else."

Few things in life truly shocked the ninja, but both eyes opened wide as the class rep bowed and said, "Please accept me as your pupil Nagase-sensei."

--

Megalo-Messembria, Mundus Magicus

Regina Karkolova removed the last cigarette from the package and carefully slit the paper with a razor blade. Shaking the remaining strands of tobacco off, she brushed them to the side with the rest and carefully searched the inside of the paper, smiling to herself as she noted the characters written on it. The mage had instantly recognized the cigarette brand as the one Gateau Vandenberg had smoked. "Ah Takamichi-kun," she whispered. "You didn't forget me after all."

Her index finger caressed the ball set into the keyboard, bringing the laptop's monitor back to life. A mouse-shaped cursor rapidly crossed the screen till it rested atop an icon of a squid. The finger jabbed down on the enter key, opening a browser window with a banner that read 'Ika Baozi.' An image of a teen-aged, Chinese girl appeared in the window. The figure's dark hair was tied into braids and covered by a set of cloth caps. She wore a long, purple, silk dress that fell into folds about her feet while hands were hidden in its wide sleeves. "What is it Regina-san?" flowed out of the computer's speakers.

Regina plugged an infra-red scanner into one of the laptop's ports and started up the application. "I have a little job for you v-Chao," she answered. "I'm going to scan in several pieces of paper and I want you to keep each one as a separate set of characters. I believe they will form a message if combined properly and that's where you and that army of processors you command come in."

"So you want me to test each possible combination to see which ones form an intelligible message?" the voice asked.

"Yes, but don't break the integrity of the sets."

After scanning the final scrap of paper, she settled back in her chair and waited while a small hourglass appeared on the screen. Regina would never have thought to find herself allied with a computer program; however, both were dedicated to keeping the gates between the worlds open so there you had it. Not that the mage entirely trusted the virtual girl, but v-Chao's assistance had allowed the Speaker to keep several steps ahead of her opponents.

"Analysis complete," said the voice as the girl's image reappeared on the monitor. "I have arranged the results from most to least probable, but …"

"But what?" the woman asked.

"The results are a little confusing," v-Chao replied with a self-depreciating smile on her lips. From under the girl's animated skirt, a green-grey-colored tentacle poked out and reached up to scratch her head.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," Regina said with a shudder.

"Sorry," came an apology as the appendage retreated out of sight. "It appears to be an extract of immigration logs from the Istanbul gateport."

The Speaker's eyes shone with anticipation. "Show me." Quickly she checked the columns, finding three particular names arriving at the Turkish port between April and July of 1993: Kagetaro of Bosporrus, a shadowmancer assassin, Nicodemus of Vairocana, a demonologist, and Kozimos Anankaios, formerly of the Crimson Wing.

"What's so special about those three?" she was asked.

"Those three were implicated in the deaths of Negi Springfield's parents," Regina answered. "Here's another project for you if you're willing to help me in this."

The girl's smile was gone in an instant, replace by grim look of determination. "Yes, if it will avenge Negi-bozu's parents." The voice from the speakers took on an edge hard and cold, like a steel blade.

"Very well," the mage responded, shocked by the sudden vehemence. "I really don't want to know where you've been putting your tentacles, but is it safe to assume you can access our gateport records?"

Regina was answered by a knowing grin. "Someone had to approve their applications to leave the Mundus Magicus on those dates," she told her collaborator. "I need you to find out who that was."

--

**A/N: The chapter heading and title were written by St Jerome around 1600 years ago. A bokuto is a wooden practiced sword. Setsuna uses one while sparring with Asuna in chapter 57, on page 9. Jakuzankusen means 'Lesser Air Cutting Flash', and is a shinmei-ryuu technique used in chapter 84 of 'Love Hina' where Aoyama Motoko sends the hero flying.**

**I gave Shizuna a pactio card in 'Markham Chronicles Negima.' In case you are wondering, it does have the roman numerals 'MI' on it.**

**Before you jump all over me, I know Chachamaru works at the Boa Zi, but that doesn't open till closer to the festival. **

**And one last point on dates. The manga has been vague on the date of Negi's birth, let alone Asuna's. The Del Rey translation lists 1994, but that could be a mistake on their part (not like it would be the first). In light of this omission, I am arbitrarily using November, 11 1993 for his birthdate.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Catch your breath? Good, then you're ready for the next chapter. My thanks for the kind comments on the last few chapters. I hope this continues to entertain. Speaking of entertaining stories, if you haven't read either 'When Light Descends to Madness' by Ansem Man/Eternal Longing or 'Negima: Femella Intra Machina' by DarkDragonDave, then do yourself a favor and check them out. **

**Negima and its characters are owned by Ken Akamatsu. Phillip Markham, Hiro Sasuki, Regina Karkolova, and Mifune Hayase are my creations.**

**The following conventions are use: **"words", 'thoughts', "**spells**", '_reading_', and _memories_

**

* * *

**

A Sword that Kills

"_There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people … it is a sword that kills"_ – **Gautama Buddha**

**--**

Campus Martius Arena, Megalo-Mesembria Mundus Magicus

An excited hum rose from the Campus Martius as the air crackled with the energy of 200,000 fans packed into the arena to watch the opening of the new PGA season. The first match in the Circus Maximus paired Granicus Fortes' newest duo against Tantalus Tempestas' most recent addition. While the Blaze-Dies team had made a name for itself, their opponents, a dragon warrior/dolphin mage team, were unknown on the tour. "Incipite," the announcer cried to the crowd's approval.

Ray Blaze hurtled forward as his winged partner finished her spell; a thick growth of thorny vines sprouted from the ground, snaring the enemy team. Avoiding the thrashing dragon warrior, the tiger-man sprang towards the blue-skinned wizard. 'Kill the mage' was the first order for any army, a dictum no less true on the arena sands as in the field. His fist slammed into the dolphin-like foe's stomach, shocking the prize fighter as it passed through completely. Blaze dropped to the ground and rolled to the side as the water clone dissolved. A lance of ice struck the spot he had just vacated.

"Wow! This is fantastic Oishi-san!" shouted the beagle-eared girl on Hiro's right. "I didn't know sycophants got such good seats!"

"Please thank Blaze-san and Dies-san for the tickets!" the dark-haired girl to the young man's left yelled. "Right ojou-sama?"

"What? Oh, right Beatrix," the goat-eared girl responded with more politeness than enthusiasm.

Hiro hadn't intended to spend the rest of his day at Glad-Con with the trio of Mage Knight Cadets, but he found that Tosaka and friends were unwilling to approach him while in the girls' company. Apparently even knights in training had a reputation few in the Mundus Magicus would willingly test.

"It was real nice," the assassin agreed, recalling how the little sprite laughed when Blaze-san handed him four tickets to the 'by invitation only' section.

"What so funny?" he had asked only to have the tiger-man inform him how amazing it was to have attracted such a sizeable harem in only a few hours.

"Lim was right," the gladiator chuckled in that deep voice of his. "There is more to you than would appear."

The air about the fairy was filled with jagged shards of ice as the finned wizard summoned a hail storm.

"Ooh," Collet squealed appreciatively. "Nice one."

"Big deal," Emily shot back. "I can do that."

Meanwhile, Blaze nimbly avoided his lumbering opponent. The dragon-man was bigger and stronger than his feline adversary, but couldn't match the other's speed. The tiger-man moved in to strike at the twin horns projecting from his foe's back, a dragon's weakness, but took a crushing blow as the creature's tail whipped around, smashing into his orange-furred chest. Hiro could feel Collet tightly clench his hand between hers as she stared intently at the action.

A blue nimbus glowed around the dolphin-man as a barrage of seed-like missiles bounced harmlessly away. He stepped forward then suddenly screamed in pain. Distracted by the projectiles, the wizard had failed to note a patch of spiky briars, the size of caltrops, at his feet. Lim swiftly completed another spell and the sand below her hovering form shifted in response. Like a ring rippling across a pond's surface, the force spread out in a circle, lifting the enemy mage from his feet and flinging him backwards into his ally.

The assassin felt his other hand snared as the tiger-man's chest puffed out while a green corona glowed around the miniature staff in Dies' hand. Light flashed forward, engulfing their opponents and continuing on toward the fairy's partner. Blaze let out an ear shattering roar, reflecting the force of the spell back and raising a cloud of sand in its wake. The crowd held its breath as the dust settled, revealing the unconscious forms of the Tantalus gladiators.

Hiro was pulled to his feet as the girls to either side stood and cheered.

Dimly, he heard Emily shout above the ovation, "Beatrix! Collet! What are you doing?"

The two cadets looked first at their class rep and then at the captured hand each held. "Oops," Collet exclaimed as she let go. "I guess I got caught up in the match."

The other girl released his hand too and muttered, "Sorry ojou-sama."

"I swear you two," the goat-eared girl said, "sometimes I don't …"

The rest of her comment was drowned out as Collet interrupted, "Hey! Look at that!"

In the distinguished guest stands, at least a score of white robed figures sat. His companions had mentioned that those were members of the Council of Mages. A robed woman, her reddish-brown hair streaming about her shoulders, rose from among them and beckoned the victorious team to her.

"Who's that?" Hiro asked.

"I think it's Councilor Karkolova," Emily answered. "She's the Speaker of the Council."

"Someone tried to murder her," Collet added.

The mage tossed two roses down to the gladiators and chanted, her words carrying to the far side of the area, "**Nobilis orbis magus coeur, aurum novo floris effloresco**." Sunlight glinted off the transmuted flowers to the crowd's thunderous approval.

The assassin stood. "Where are you going Oishi-san?" Beatrix asked.

"Well, I need to … you know."

"It's not safe for you to walk by yourself," the dark-haired girl reminded him.

"Why don't you go with him Collet?" Emily offered.

--

Hiro walked back out of the washroom and shook his head at Collet. The girl didn't hide her look of disappointment as they continued down the stadium corridor. "Sorry," he said to his escort. "I can't help it that every other guy has to go too."

"But the next battle is going to start soon," she complained.

In truth, the young man had wanted to take a break for awhile, but after walking nearly halfway around the arena, Hiro now needed to find an unoccupied lavatory. Up ahead, a man with black-furred, rabbit ears walked into the passageway. The sign above the door he stepped out of read '_Staff Only_'.

The assassin grabbed the doorknob prompting Collet to ask what he was doing. "Do you want to see the second fight?" At her nod, he opened the door.

Beyond lay a storage room with rows of blue, plastic barrels neatly stacked. From the zigzag appearance of the roof, Hiro guessed that they were directly below the stands. The smell of ammonia was strong but so was that of diesel; immediately, his warning bell started pealing.

"What is it?" the glasses-wearing girl asked.

"Start evacuating the area now," the man answered as he walked past the rows, scanning between them.

"But …"

"But nothing," Hiro quickly replied. "There are enough explosives in here to take down this side of the arena."

Collet stared at him in wide-eyed disbelief. "I know what I'm talking about," he assured her. "No time to stand around so haul some ass."

Hiro had reached the middle of the rows when he found a digital clock wired into several bricks of a green-colored substance that resembled modeling clay and with an almond-like scent. Over the stadium's PA system, a sharp, staccato-like buzz sounded. Pulling a knife from his pocket, he cautiously gathered the wires attached to the timer and severed them. Minutes later, long after the bomb would have gone off, he heard the pounding of feet.

--

It was a small room, each wall a perfect 3.1 meters long, and white. White walls, a white ceiling and white floor tiles blended together, making it difficult to tell when one ended and another began. He sat hunched forward in a white, plastic chair, with elbows resting on the matching table. Chin was propped upon folded hands as the young man stared straight ahead. How long had he been there he wondered. One hour? Most certainly. Two? Probably. Long enough for the robed investigators to interrogate him a half dozen times.

"Name?"

"Oishi Kuranosuke."

"Profession?"

"Student."

"Address?"

"Residence Hall 24, room 117, Mahora, Japan."

"Why were you in that storage room?"

"I needed to take a leak and the washrooms were full."

They would start off with different questions, but it always came down to that last one. It was a game of course, one he had played before and likely would again. Patience was the key to winning; one side or the other would grow weary. Well, as the song went, Hiro had nowhere to be and all day to get there.

He watched as a portion of the wall slid away, revealing a passage. Its dark silhouette clashed against the stark white of the surrounding room. Another robe-wearer stepped inside, but her hood was pushed back to reveal a familiar face.

"Should I stand Madame Speaker?" he asked as she hobbled into the room, leaning heavily on her cane.

"I wouldn't," she replied. The woman finally reached the empty chair and sat down.

"You probably saved several thousand lives today, including my own," Regina said. "Thanks."

"You're welcome."

"I've had a number of close calls before," the woman mentioned, "but I've never owed my life to a call of nature."

"Not even a bit of a smile," she observed.

"I apologize for not being in a more jovial mood," the assassin replied. "But …"

"But you're wondering how much longer we're going to keep you here?" Regina finished. "We're working that right now, but I'm sure you can appreciate our concern. A great number of people were in danger."

The carefully schooled face showed no emotion as he nodded his head.

"Still, I see no reason to keep you in such charming accommodations," the Speaker told him. She stood and motioned Hiro to follow her. "Your friends are waiting outside."

--

Kansai Temple, Kyoto Japan

Eishun stopped for a moment and observed the workmen preparing the courtyard for their guests. Since the shimei ryu's dojo had been declared a historic monument several years ago, he offered the use of the temple for this important occasion. As the head of the Kansai Magic Association, he felt it was the least he could do seeing as his people had let Amagasaki-san escape.

The onmyoji wizard had kidnapped his daughter the previous year, but had been foiled by the timely intervention of Negi Springfield and his students. Granted, Evangeline McDowell had defeated the summoned demon, but the boy had shown immense promise. A promise that continued to grow as the lad first foiled Lingshen Chao's plan to reveal magic to the world and then the remnants of the same fanatics the Crimson Wing fought in the Great War as they sought control of the Mundus Magicus. Another battle was beginning to brew, and Eishun was sure that the young mage would be called upon again.

Amagasaki-san had been a pawn of those forces, and apparently was again as the woman was assisted in escaping her confinement. Her confederate, a shinmei ryu herself, had been caught but the association's leader knew it was part of a larger plan. Tsukuyomi-san had immediately accused another of misconduct and issued a challenge to settle the matter by combat. That the mercenary had challenged his daughter's body guard, friend and provisional pactio partner was no mere happenstance. Without evidence of a plot, Eishun couldn't prevent the trial, but being at the temple put him in a position to help should it be needed.

His daughter Konoka would arrive this evening along with her friends Setsuna, Asuna and Negi. Accompanying them would be the American teacher. Markham-san was a solid, respectable individual but hardly seemed the sort the handle those student of his during such a critical time. Had one of the temple maidens, a girl known for having visions of the future, not seen him having an important part to play, the man would still be teaching in New Mexico. Eishun hoped to get his measure during the weekend as well.

A woman with long, black hair and wearing a robe that would not have been out of place during the Meiji era was being escorted down the gallery. Like the samurai of old, her waist was encircled by a sash and two swords, a daito and shoto, were thrust into it. Eishun instantly recognized the Soke, or Grand Master, of the shinmei ryu. "Welcome to the Kansai temple Aoyama-dono," he said, bowing in greeting.

"Thank you Konoe-dono," the woman replied with equal formality. "I see work is proceeding well."

"Would you like the opportunity to rest after your journey?"

"That would be greatly appreciated."

"Then follow me Aoyama-dono," he responded.

They casually walked along the pillared hallway, speaking with utmost politeness to one another. A veneer they dropped after entering a side room. The woman gave a huge sigh of relief as she sank into a chair. "I'll be so happy when my sister takes over and has to be the one to maintain the dignity of the school," she commented.

"How is your sister doing Tsuruko-san?"

"University life seems to be agreeing with Motoko, but law school requires a great deal of her time," the swordswoman answered. "What of your daughter?"

"I haven't seen her since the winter holiday, but I've had excellent reports of her progress," Eishun told her. "She was most impressive while serving as the Kanto Association head during the time my father-in-law was preoccupied."

"So what are you going to call the combined association when she comes of age?"

"I favor Nihon myself, but I think our friends in the Nansei and Kai Associations might object."

"Have you seen Setsuna-chan recently?" Tsuruko asked.

"She seemed happier than I'd ever seen her last winter," Eishun told her. "She and Konoka have become provisional partners."

The woman looked up in surprise. "Have they now?" she replied. "How do you feel about that?"

"I could never hope for someone more devoted to Konoka's welfare or happiness," he answered. "If my daughter decides to ascend to leadership of either or both associations, I would worry less if she had such a friend at her side."

"I am pleased to hear our faith in her was justified," Tsuruko commented then smiled in recollection. "I still remember Setsuna-chan's shy, little face on the day we brought her here."

"As can I," the man remarked. "Who will stand with her at the trial?"

"Her instructor at Mahora, Kuzunoha-san," the woman answered. "And Motoko will stand by Tsukuyomi-chan."

"The Shihanke?" he asked in amazement.

"The last trial was held nearly a century ago; most of the school's masters will be attending Friday," Tsuruko reminded him. "None of us wish the least hint of impropriety, so as heir to the school, Motoko would ask no other to do this."

"Now Eishun, I'd like you to tell me about your daughter's other friends," she said. "I particularly want to hear about this boy wizard."

--

Mahora Japan

Streets leading to the train station were crowded as students jostled each other in their haste to start enjoying Golden Week. A lone, twelve-year-old was lost amidst this turbulent sea, but Anya pushed doggedly on, determined to warn Negi before he and her fellow classmates left for their trip.

Back in San Francisco, Anya had been shown a meeting between two mages plotting revenge on someone, her childhood friend she presumed. The old wizard who told her also placed a spell on the girl, preventing her from speaking about what she had seen. She had recently discovered that both figures in the vision were enemies Negi had faced in Kyoto the previous year.

As a car parked in front the station's passenger drop off, Anya recognized the driver as Minamoto-san, but she had no clue who the man getting out of the vehicle was. He was tall and dressed in a dark blue, business suit. His face, covered by a neatly trimmed beard and mustache seemed familiar to her. When Minamoto-san pulled away from the curb, the youngster suddenly recalled where she knew the stranger from. His name was Dolnegus, the man from whom Negi purchased back three of his students during the trip into the Mundus Magicus.

'What's that slaver doing here?' Anya asked herself, moving forward with a greater sense of urgency. 'And what's Minamoto-san doing with him?'

The platform was even worse than the outside streets, with people bumping and elbowing each other, so closely packed together they were. Ahead, the student saw her homeroom teacher, Mr. Markham, board the train while the man from the Magic World got on a few cars down. The young mage muttered a spell and hurried forward as the crowd parted in front of her.

Anya made it into the train, getting on just before the doors closed. Bodies pressed against her, hemming the girl in tightly as pictures of livestock being shipped to market flashed through the young student's mind. "Looks like I'll need to pull Negi's fat out of the fire," she thought as her sour expression deepened. "I hope my pass works for the bullet train."

Four hours later, the train sped out of a tunnel carved through the mountain and Anya beheld the lights of Kyoto, filling the valley below. Though nowhere near the size of London, let alone Tokyo, it was an impressive sight for someone used to the sparsely settled hills of eastern Wales.

Her rail pass would have been fine for a normal train that made the journey to the former capitol in nine hours. She had winced upon learning the ticket would cost most of her remaining funds. The next bank transfer wasn't due for a couple days yet, and coupled with the fact Anya hadn't packed anything for this unexpected trip, it promised to be an unpleasant time. She'd have no choice but to ask Negi to lend her a few quid until they could return to Mahora; it was the least the boy could do, after all he was the reason she was in Kyoto.

Although Kyoto was referred to as the traditional center of Japan, the train station was a fifteen story tall, modern building, constructed of glass and chrome. A bewildering array of signs advertising office spaces, stores and an on premises hotel, greeted the youngster as she stepped from the train. Lost among them was a tiny sign that declared ground transportation this way.

As Anya walked into the night air, she spotted Negi and the others waiting near a street crossing. A middle-aged man stood next to Asuna who seemed to be arguing with him. Without further warning, her bell-wearing classmate landed a punch on the stranger's chin, knocking the man back on his wallet. He scrambled to his feet and fled down the sidewalk as Asuna shouted after him, "And stay away you pervert!"

The young mage was about to call out when she felt something pointed pressed against her back. "Don't make a sound," a man's voice warned her. "This blade can be in your lung before you bat an eye."

"What do you want?" Anya asked while Negi and his companions crossed to the bus station on the opposite side of the street.

"For a start, who are you and why did you follow that boy and his friends all the way from Mahora?"

"I'm a student at Mahora," the girl truthfully answered. "And I, uh, wanted to talk with him."

"So do you fancy the lad?"

"No, I, er, that is to say," she floundered, "um, maybe … a little."

She felt the point removed and was told to turn about. Involuntarily, her breath drew in as Anya recognized the bearded man.

"If you know who I am, then you know where I'm from," he said gravely. "Believe it or not, I'm here to help young Springfield."

"Help," Anya remarked in disbelief. "Why would you want to help him?"

"Because a number of people I care about depend on his continued wellbeing," the man answered then turned and started to walk away.

"Wait," the girl called. "How can I trust what you say?"

He stopped and looked at Anya with a melancholy smile. "There's no reassurance I can give you," the slaver replied. "You'll have to follow your instincts."

--

Kyoto Japan

Phillip had spent his final years in the military stationed in Okinawa. He found it ironic that the most of Japan he'd seen during that time was a stretch of highway between Tokyo's major airports. As a First Sergeant, he was always heading to another field exercise, or conference or relief operation in a part of the world none of them could pronounce. Where ever the airmen of the 18th Communications Squadron went, Sergeant Markham was with them; not that those men and women needed somebody to hold their hand. He ensured they had what was needed to do the job and were free from interference in doing it. As the bus shifted gears in preparation of climbing a steep hill, the American reflected that teaching at Mahora wasn't so very different. Only the troops were now 15 and 16 year old girls.

The 30 members of Class 1A weren't his only students, he taught nearly 200 school girls each day, but they were his major concern. Together they had faced a life or death struggle and walked away from it. With another on the horizon, the teacher felt conflicted. One part of him rebelled at placing his students in further danger, yet another part knew it was inevitable. To continue trying to talk them out of it would destroy whatever chance they had to survive. So much was expected of those girls, and of the young boy seated next to him.

For an eleven year old, Negi had a far too serious expression on his face. Phillip noticed the youngster's eyes fixed on the three girls a few rows ahead of them. "I don't want you to feel you have to sit next to me," he said. "It's okay if you want to be with the others."

"I'd like to sit here Phillip-san," Negi replied. "Do you mind if I ask you a question?"

"Not at all."

"What do you think of Asuna-san?" the boy asked.

He had known Asuna only a month, but the teacher had several, vivid memories of her. She had attempted to attack his teacher's aide on the second day of class and had to be restrained by her fellow students. Though provoked by Takane, the girl accepted her detention and had curbed her aggressive nature. The image of her dismembering the wendigo with Setsuna's blade in her hand sprang to mind, as did Yuna's memories of Asuna during the battle at the mall. They were quickly followed by her punching the man who wanted to buy her unmentionables less than an hour ago.

"Asuna-san's strong, courageous," he answered, "not book smart but she can clearly see what needs to be done and has the determination to pick a path and stick with it. I think she would be a friend you could count on when you need one the most."

"She's all that," Negi replied, nodding his head in agreement. "And so much more."

"Asuna-san's my best friend, my trusted, older sister, and my partner," the young mage explained. "I don't remember how many times she's put herself in danger for my sake, and I'd do the same for her."

"And yet …" the boy started then paused.

"And yet?" Phillip asked.

"And yet she's not that special girl," Negi admitted. "I wouldn't want to go into battle with anyone else by my side, but I can't imagine spending the rest of my life with her."

"Is that a bad thing Negi-san?"

"It's a very selfish thing Phillip-san."

With a sadness unnatural for a boy so young, Negi stared at the girl. "How can I ask Asuna-san to make me the center of her life, to sacrifice everything, when I'm not willing to do the same?"

"Isn't it a little early for you to be making lifetime commitments?" the older teacher asked.

"Not really. I know I want her to be my partner," the youngster answered. "But I could never bind someone to me like that, depriving her of a home and family."

"Is the reason you could never give her that because Asuna-san's not that special girl, or because someone else is more special to you?" Phillip asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Look, I like Nodoka-san," Negi said then caught himself. His cheeks started to color from embarrassment.

"And apparently she likes you in return," the man remarked, recalling how the two of them kissed.

"It isn't a bad thing to see someone as just a friend," he continued. "Even a friend you'd want nearby as you storm the castle gates."

"The bad thing, Negi-san, would be to promise her something you have no intention of giving," Phillip said. "When the time comes for that decision to be made, be completely honest; no one's ever been tripped up later for telling the truth."

"But what if she leaves?"

"Better that than if she stayed believing a lie."

--

Megalo-Mesembria Mundus Magicus

_The deck rocked beneath Kaigun Chui Mifune's feet as the battle raged in the skies above Ostia, the ancient capital of Vespetatia. The well-ordered lines of the advance was torn to shreds as the forces clashed, turning the young officer's world into chaos. A steady stream of whale-mounted canon bursts filled the air, along with the screams of the wounded. Broom mounted mages swooped down between the warships, firing their spells with deadly effect._

_The flare of a Sagitta Magica struck among his cable crew, stunning men and loosening fasteners securing a cable that had held the Paidi Apollyon to the ship. Images of the cable whipping around the crowded deck, snapping men in half like stick figures, went through his mind as Mifune quickly drew his wand. He dove for the restraining bolts, the words for the spell falling from his lips. The tip of wand glowed like a red-hot brand in response to the __spell. Three touches were all that was needed as the cable rose gracefully into the air, a gleaming ribbon of death, and fell away from the whaleship. He hoped it would take out a few of the mages that had strafed his shipmates._

_The crew of a neighboring ship battled a blaze as a cloud of black smoke, with its sickly-sweet smell, drifted across the void. Their enemy was trying to offset the numerical advantage of the northern fleet by sending teams of broom-riders in to disable the vessels. He pointed his wand and chanted the release incantation as one such group passed overhead. His spell struck one rider, flinging the cloaked mage off the broom, but after only a few meters plummeting, his opponent's descent slowed to that of a feather gently floating down._

_The attacking wizards continued to drop incendiary bombs onto the deck while the crew worked feverishly to clear them off. One unlucky sailor had the device explode in his hands, turning him into a fiery torch. Mifune watched as the doomed man dove over the railing, saving his mates. The mage-officer knew the crewman would be dead long before he struck the ground._

_Another broom was struck and the southern mage fell hard to the deck. Mifune pointed his wand and began the spell to blast the enemy out of existence, when the invader called out "Akashi!" The junior officer whirled about to confront a young man, perhaps in his early twenties, with an angular face and Asiatic features like himself, wearing the robes of the Southern Fleet. Before he could finish the activation key, the opposing mage released his own Saggita Magica at point blank range. The future councilor slammed backwards into the cable housing and slipped into unconsciousness, but his attacker's face was indelibly etched into memory._

Mifune Hayase, Chairman of the External Affairs Committee, arguably the most powerful member of the Council of Mages after the Speaker, sat up in his bed. Lights turned on in response to his mental command and slowly increased their strength as he walked to the desk in his home office. Upon it lay several folders, all with the same 'confidential' marking on front and back.

Searching through the stack, the councilor came to the one he sought and opened the folder. Inside was the file upon one Akashi Yuji, Professor of Computer Sciences at Mahora University. Though the picture was of a man in his forties, Mifune recognized the unknown mage from his dream. Anger dormant for twenty years blazed to new life, causing the councilor to tremble. A hand grasped the professor's photograph and slowly crumpled it.

**--**

**A/N: A few notes on words used in the chapter. Regina's activation key is "nobilis orbis magus coeur" which would translate as "noble orb magic's heart." The rest of the phrase , "aurum novo floris effloresce," is Latin for "renew as gold, flower bloom."**

**Daito and shoto are the traditional long and short swords worn by samurai. They are used in a ceremonial role, though I imagine Tsuruko, being versed in several styles of sword fighting, could wield them effectively. A Soke is often translated as 'Grand Master' and refers here to the titular head of the shinmei ryu school. A Shihanke is a designation in some schools for a deputy to the Soke, and is used here for the person who will inherit the Soke's position.**

**Nihon, like Nippon, is the Japanese word for their country. Nansei is the region south of the main islands, comprised of Okinawa and the Ryukyu Islands. Kai is a Japanese rending of the word Qoy, the Ainu name for Hokkaido.**

**A Kaigun Chui was a rank used by the Imperial Japanese Navy. It would be equal to the US Navy rank of Lieutenant Junior Grade.**

**Paidi Apollyon is my term for the** **giant creatures attacking the tower in chapter 169.**

**The Aoyama sister, Tsuruko and Motoko, are from Akamatsu's "Love Hina" series. I've established the connection between the two series previously in "Markham Chronicles Negima" by including Keitaro's friends, Haitani and Shirai.**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Finally got this one finished. This chapter didn't turn out quite as I expected, being more introspective than normal. Consider it my 'Deep Thoughts' chapter. However, I did enjoy getting to use characters that don't get featured much (coughTsukuyomicough). And a little more of Negi's past is revealed.**

"**Negima", its characters and the Aoyama sisters are all owned by Ken Akamatsu. I have an ever expanding roster of OCs and that probably indicates that I have way too much time on my hands.**

**The following conventions are use: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, '_reading_', and _memories_

* * *

**Mirror's Reflection**

_Sometimes I would give anything just to be something more than nothing – _**Montague, Richards, DeWolf, Lipscomb**

Kyoto Japan

A tree-lined path led up the hill and the sound of heels clicking on paving stones echoed off the low walls on either side of the walkway. The little group walked into a lighted courtyard and Phillip could see the entry gate to the temple ahead.

He let out a low whistle of appreciation. "This is your home Konoka-san?"

"Yes," she answered, grinning as the great doors swung towards them.

A score of robed women lined the walkway inside the temple grounds. As one they bowed and greeted the heir of the Kansai Magic Association. "Welcome home Konoka-ojou-sama."

"Does this happen every time?" Phillip whispered.

"Every time," Asuna muttered in response.

The American looked about and noted all of the welcoming women were young and beautiful. 'Don't they have any old shrine maidens?' he wondered. 'Maybe there's a mandatory retirement age?' The picture of middle-aged women dressed in red and white robes standing in the unemployment line came to him. It was followed by an image of those same women looking in horror as crystals embedded in their palms flashed red then black.

A man wearing a tall headpiece led the group into what Phillip would have called the great hall. After removing their shoes, they were escorted to mats near the bottom of a stairway. Robed priestesses knelt on either side of the hall while bow-armed guards flanked the stairs. Following his companion's example, the man knelt on a mat. Even the ermine had a scaled-down mat in place for him.

"You okay?" Chamo whispered.

"I'm fine," he answered. "Other than feeling like I stepped into a scene from Madame Butterfly."

"I was thinking the Mikado myself," the ermine replied. "But then I'm partial to Gilbert and Sullivan."

A couple garbed in ceremonial robes, appeared at the head of the stairs. The man appeared to be in his forties. His hair was cropped short and a pair of black rimmed glasses was perched on his nose. The woman accompanying him had to be at least twenty years younger. She wore her red hair short and moved hesitantly as if unsure of herself. The teacher thought the man might be Konoka's father, but his companion seemed too young to be his student's mother.

"Welcome honored guests," the head of the Kansai Magic Association told them. "Your journey has been long and you are no doubt tired, but we have much to discuss. Refreshments have been prepared. Please accept our hospitality."

They followed their hosts into another room where a food laden table waited. As they ate, several of the mikos engaged Phillip's students while others surrounded his fellow teacher. Negi's head turned from one side to the other as the women peppered him with questions.

"Mister Markham," Eishun said. "Do you have a moment?"

"Certainly."

The girl with the short, red hair was still by the other man's side. "I'd like to speak with you in private," the swordsman told him. "Would you mind coming this way?"

They stepped into a side room and the girl closed the screen behind them. "What did you want to talk about?" the teacher asked.

"Mister Markham, you were invited to teach at Mahora this year at my request," Eishun said.

"Yukimi-san," here the man pointed to the shrine maiden, who bowed in acknowledgement, "had a vision that indicated you would be of help during this impending crisis."

Phillip listened without comment as his host continued. "I don't pretend to know how you will, but I trust Yukimi-san. With your cooperation, I'd like to see if we can prompt another vision."

"What do I need to do?"

"She will need to be in physical contact with you."

"And that's all?" he asked. At the other man's nod, Phillip agreed.

Yukimi stepped in front of him and grasped his hands. "Place your forehead against hers Mister Markham," the Kansai leader instructed.

The pale skin of her hands and brow felt cool against his skin. Phillip could feel the woman tremble and wondered if she was afraid of him. The room grew dark then bright like the changing of the set during a play.

The teacher looked upon a hospital room. With a start, he recognized Konoka sitting up on the bed and nursing a newborn. His student had grown into a young woman as had Setsuna who sat next to her friend and smiled at the scene before her. All went dim and then brightened to show an older Konoka, with streaks of grey in her hair, sitting by the bed and watching another mother and child. Phillip noticed a resemblance between his older student and the new mother. Setsuna, seemingly untouched by the years, waited at her partner's shoulder, with her mouth in a faint smile. Again the image shifted as an even older Konoka waited by the bedside of another mother and child, looking as happy as a proud grandmother. Her partner, her hair now a dazzling white but otherwise showing few signs of the advancing years, still stood next to her. However, Setsuna's face had settled into hard, inflexible lines, void of emotion.

The hospital room faded away to be replaced by a garden with an artificial stream meandering through it. Two people, a white-haired boy and a dark-haired woman perhaps ten years older, sat on wrought iron chairs and sipped from china cups. Although Phillip couldn't hear a thing, they seemed to be casually conversing with one another over tea. In the center of the garden rested a very detailed sculpture of a girl. As a swallow perched on the statue's shoulder began to peck at a cheek, the teacher recognized Asuna's features, captured in an expression of dismay, carved into the stone.

In an instant, the garden was gone and he looked upon the darkened area outside the high school's gymnasium. Under the moon's illumination, he saw Madoka sitting on the ground, and though he heard no sound, the teacher could tell she was weeping piteously. Cradled in his student's arms was the mangled body of her friend, Misa. Another body, torn and bloody, lay nearby. Though it was face down, Phillip saw orange-red hair in the dim light.

Bile filled his mouth as a wave of nausea threatened to break over him. Mercifully, the image was cut short, only to be replaced by a stranger one yet. Green, rolling hills spread out in all directions underneath a clear, blue sky. The air shimmered and rippled as a black cloud stretched across the horizon. Drawing across the land, the cloud changed the appearance of the sun, first turning it orange and then fiery red. Grasses turned instantly into a fine, black powder that spiraled heavenward adding to the clouds of ash. Before his world went dark once more, Phillip saw the sun, bloated huge beyond belief, leer down like a malevolent eye.

He felt something cool and wet against his forehead. Opening his eyes, Phillip found Konoka's concerned face hovering above him. Thankfully, it was his student applying the towel instead of one of the older women from the vision.

"What happened?" he asked.

"Daddy said you fainted," Konoka replied as he started to sit up. She quickly put an arm behind his back.

"Not so fast sensei," the girl cautioned. "You've been unconscious for the past six hours."

"Where is everyone?" he asked.

"The shihan of the shinmei ryu are meeting this morning," Konoka answered. "Se-chan must either formally accept the challenge or admit guilt. Asuna and Negi-kun are with her."

"I need to talk to that woman," Phillip said.

"What woman is that sensei?"

"The shrine maiden with the short, red hair," the teacher replied. "Yukimi-san I think your father said her name was."

"I don't remember her," Konoka remarked. "Did daddy take you to her?"

"She walked into the main hall with him last night," he answered. "She was never more than an arm's length from Konoe-san the whole evening."

Konoka gazed closely at her teacher, her concern deepening. "No one was with my father," she said, "from the time he arrived until he left with you sensei."

--

Dampness soaked through the thin fabric of her blouse as she drew into a tighter circle underneath the blazer. 'I should have gone with Negi,' Anya thought. A night spent on the ground left her cold, sore and thoroughly miserable.

Opening her eyes, the pre-teen noted faint, grey steaks rising above the ridge of hills. Abandoning the pretense of sleeping, the girl sat up and stretched her arms. Muscles, stiff and chilled, protested the movement, but Anya ignored them. Slowly, she stood, brushing off clumps of grass and dirt that adhered to the Mahora school uniform. Once on her feet, the young girl approached a ring of stones encircling a small fire.

The tall, bearded man, now dressed in a mage's hooded robe, sat nearby. Bits of meat roasted over the fire. As he picked up one of the skewers, the smell reached Anya, causing the girl's stomach to growl loudly in response. The corners of the man's mouth lifted in a slight smirk as he held the meat out to her. "Hungry?"

"Here, have some," he offered when confronted by Anya's dubious stare. "Go ahead, it's good."

"So how many drachmas will this be?" she asked, recalling how much his aid cost three of Negi's students.

His smirk grew broader at her question. "As many as I paid for it, and not an asu more."

Her stomach continued to grumble as hunger overcame suspicion. She tore off a chunk and chewed while juices ran down her chin. "This is good," she declared between bites. "What is it?"

"I told you it would be," her companion replied. "You remember those rabbits we saw last night?"

Anya glared at him as images of little, black and white bunnies hopped around in her mind. The meat no longer tasted as good but her stomach complained as appetite overcame cute and cuddly. In silence the young girl finished her breakfast.

After kicking dirt over the remains of the fire, the robed figure began walking north, further into the hills. Last night, outside the train station, Dolnegus had said she needed to follow her instincts. Taking him up his advice, the young mage had tailed the slaver into the hills east of the city.

"Why are you following me?" he had asked.

"Like you," the girl replied, "a number of people I care about are dependent on that boy's well being."

Now Anya had to choose again: go to where Negi and her classmates were, or follow this man on no more than hunch. 'You're an idiot,' she scolded herself. 'Negi needs to be warned.' But youngster couldn't shake the feeling that this was vital too. Uttering an unladylike phrase, she jogged to catch up to her companion.

The morning quietly slipped away as the pair continued to hike away from Kyoto, away from Negi. Dolnegus crested a rise and stopped, letting Anya catch up to him. "What's wrong?" she asked.

"It's been a long time since I was last here," he said with a touch of sorrow in his voice.

"That's Mount Hiei," the man said as he pointed out the summit that towered over the surrounding hills. "Come along then."

The meadow was empty save for the grasses that reached halfway to her knees. The robed figure marched steadily forward, about 5 meters in front of her. Suddenly he vanished from her sight. Anya pulled her wand out and chanted a spell of detection. It revealed the presence of a glamour straight ahead. Picking up a pebble, she tossed it at the point where Dolnegus disappeared and it too vanished.

She hurried forward and felt a tingle while passing through the magic's boundary. The grassy field was no longer empty as Anya beheld the wreckage of a small cottage. A single post, its blackened end thrusting skyward, still stood but everything else had been reduced to piles of rubble. The shattered stones and timbers were slowly being reclaimed by vegetation and the young mage wondered how long this had been a ruin. Five years? Ten years? And why did this place interest the man from the Magic World?

A garden plot about 4 meters square, lay behind the remains of the cottage; enclosed by a wall, short enough that the girl could easily step over. Dolnegus knelt among the weeds and wildflowers, clearing the plants from in front of a marble headstone. Inscribed into its smooth surface was a single name _'Gwyneth Springfield'_.

'Negi's aunt! Nekane's mother!' Anya thought as she pulled her wand out and leveled it at the man defiling the grave. Anger took hold as she shouted, "What do you think you're doing?"

"Pulling weeds," Dolnegus calmly replied, continuing with his self-imposed task. "It would be a pity to damage her grave site, especially since she died saving your little friend Negi's life."

"What?" she cried out as rage became shock. "How would you know?"

"The story was never a secret," the man answered. "Why wouldn't I?"

Anya lowered the wand still clenched in her fist, watching as another tuft of grass was pulled from the soft earth and tossed aside. He continued to speak as he worked.

"For whatever reason, Gwyneth Springfield left Wales shortly after her brother-in-law Nagi and his new bride, Anna, arrived in the village," Dolnegus told her. "I can only speculate but perhaps she felt trapped, wasting away in her tidy, little home while others were out saving the world. Ever the hero, Nagi vowed to find her, and eventually he did."

"Maybe it would have been better if he hadn't …" his voice trailed off. Anya kept silent, waiting for Dolnegus to continue.

"Gwyneth settled in this little cottage, within sight of Mount Hiei," he finally said, "close to Kyoto where Nagi had his home. Anna and Gwyneth had been friends since their days at Meldiana, and the soon-to-be-mother visited whenever her husband was out of town."

"One day, an enemy of the Crimson Wing discovered this hidden place and set an ambush. When next Anna arrived, this time in her mother's company, they were besieged by demons."

He paused again and when the older mage spoke, Anya could hear an edge of grief in his words. "No one tells any heroic tales about this battle, how three women desperately fought to save the life of one unborn. No poet immortalized a mother dying to protect her daughter, or the friend who perished as she slew the last demon. No movie was made to commemorate a young woman's struggles, though grievously injured, to live long enough to give birth to her son."

His hands were shaking so much, Dolnegus had to stop with his labor. "No epic battle that, worthy of remembering," he said in a voice that cracked. "Just like a forgotten grave in an out-of-the-way clearing."

'He's a slaver,' she reminded herself as she watched the man's emotions get the upper hand. 'He threatened you with a knife.'

But the raw pain Anya beheld recalled her own upon learning her village had been destroyed, her family and friends turned to stone. She had walked about in a daze afterwards, not quite believing what she had been told. Then Negi arrived at Meldiana and one look into his haggard face convinced her of the truth. Both had dissolved into tears as they clutched each other in their shared loss.

'Don't go feeling sorry for him,' the little mage willed herself as a sleeve hastily wiped the wetness from her eyes. 'He doesn't deserve it.'

Another memory rose ghost-like. "Why do we become Minister Magi," a much younger Anya had asked Nekane.

"To help other people," Negi's cousin replied, wearing her patented, guaranteed-to-brighten-the-gloomiest-day smile.

"But why?"

"The world has too much suffering," the older girl answered. "To take no action when you could help even the tiniest bit, is the worst thing you can do."

"Even worse than lying or stealing?" she had asked.

"A lie can be forgiven and what is stolen returned," Nekane pointed out. "Once pain touches you, it never really leaves."

How true those words were, Anya thought. Magic would never be able to solve the majority of life's problems, she knew, but spells weren't the only tools at a Magister Magi's disposal. There were no words of comfort to offer; instead the young mage knelt next to the grieving man. Her arms wrapped about him as tears streamed down both of their faces.

--

The great sword sliced effortlessly through the air and murmured only the softest of whispers in its passing. Turn, slash, block and thrust the pattern went; motions reinforced by years of constant practice. Move and counter-move repeated and refined until muscles could perform them without the need for conscious thought.

"Stop!" a stern voice commanded.

Arms locked in place and the nodachi's long blade wavered slightly in response. Setsuna held her pose and waited for further instructions. As a seven-year-old the novice shinmei ryu had been made to hold the sword out, as far as her reach would allow, until her arms burned with fatigue. Yet each day, she could hold it for a little longer. Today, the girl could hold the position for hours.

"You may relax," the voice informed her. "I have seen enough."

Aoyama Tsuruko, Grand Master of Shinmei Ryu, examined her with a critical eye. Nicknamed the Demon Blade of Kyoto, the woman was said to be the finest sword produced in the last generation. Of course, some omitted the word Blade when referring to Tsuruko, but never within earshot of the Soke. How different the Grand Master looked now, the hanyo thought, compared to this morning.

_Aoyama-sama had sat in the hall, surrounded by over 50 masters, a number that represented the majority of the school's leadership. The woman had worn a solid white robe and appeared as cold and _

_forbidding as if cut from a glacier's face. In her hand was a crimson red fan that fluttered back and forth like a living thing. The color stood out starkly and reminded the girl of blood freshly spilled on a mantle of snow._

_Setsuna had knelt facing the assembled shihans and answered the charges made against her. Kuzunoha-san, her instructor at Mahora, sat upon her left while Negi, Asuna and Chamo were seated behind. Several meters away, to Setsuna's right, sat her accuser and on Tsukuyomi's right was Aoyama Motoko, the woman who will one day inherit the Grand Master's position._

"_Sakurazaki Setsuna," Tsuruko had said. "You have heard the charges made against you. What is your answer?"_

_At Konoka's urging, she had practiced her reply, but now that the moment had arrived, all of her words seemed trite. "Aoyama-sama and masters of the school, of the first charge I am guilty," she replied, heart thumping wildly in her chest. "I did accept the reward offered by the citizens of Nyandom for driving away a dragon terrorizing their town."_

_She glanced at the master's impassive faces. "I was separated from the others of my party and lacked the means to support myself and my companion."_

"_Of the second charge I am equally guilty," the swordswoman admitted. Behind her, Setsuna could hear Asuna's cough but her bell-wearing classmate remained silent otherwise. "With the danger my companions and I have faced over the past year, I thought of it as strengthening our chances of survival." Stoic faces continued to regard her. "I admit my errors and am ready to accept whatever punishment my actions have earned."_

"_As to the third charge, that of showing cowardice in battle, I deny it with my heart, my thought and my spirit!" the hanyo said emphatically. "Preserving the life I was entrusted to protect demanded I leave the battle at that time."_

_Setsuna felt she might as well have been speaking to the walls so emotionless her audience remained. However, she continued to plead her case. "Had I not left, Konoka-ojou-sama would not have been able to stop a spell that would have taken an unknown number of lives," the girl told them. "The teachings of this school are clear on the necessity of protecting the innocent. What I did was in full accordance with those teachings and I will defend my actions with all that I possess."_

_Dismissed as the school's leaders discussed her fate, she waited nervously in the courtyard. It seemed like hours, though Asuna's watch revealed less than half an hour had passed when they were summoned back._

"_It is the decision of the gathered masters, that the first charge against you be dismissed due to extenuating circumstances," Tsuruko announced. Although she didn't know why, Setsuna noted a tiny smile on Motoko-sama's face. "In so far as you have admitted to teaching our traditions to one outside of the school, you will be held accountable but the punishment will be determined at a later time."_

"_On the last charge," the Soke said, "it is our decision that tomorrow morning at dawn, you will face you accuser in battle to determine your fate." Her fan snapped shut, as if adding emphasis to her words. Her friends from Mahora were surprised by the judgment but all others in the room knew that only the sword would settle the feud with her twin-blade opponent._

"Your arm seems fully healed," Tsuruko said, bringing her back to the present. "Are you happy Setsuna-chan?" the woman asked, catching the student off guard.

"I'm not sure I understand your question," she replied.

"I want to know if you like the path your life has taken?" Tsuruko explained. "Are you pleased with the choices you've made."

"Yes, of course," Setsuna answered. "I am happy fulfilling my duty to protect ojou-sama."

"So it's only a duty is it?"

"Well, no … it's not just a duty," the girl said. "I enjoy being around her."

"Fulfilling your duty to Konoe-san is very important," Tsuruko responded. "But the world is full of many opportunities. Have you considered what else you could be doing?"

"Like what?"

The other woman smiled and Setsuna felt a brief flare of resentment. 'How dare she be amused by my confusion,' she angrily thought.

"Maybe study hard enough and pass the qualification exams for Tokyo University, or travel the world and unearth starling discoveries," the swordswoman answered. "Join a band and become the next pop idol, or even fall in love with a young man."

"But I like what I'm doing Aoyama-sama," she told her. "Are you saying I shouldn't want to protect ojou-sama?"

"Not at all," Tsuruko answered. "I'm just pointing out that it's not an either or proposition."

"Protect our precious ojou-sama. Do your utmost to see to her wellbeing and happiness," the woman continued. "But remember that when you look into a mirror, the person who stares back is just as important."

--

The sun had set behind the western hills, and the air grew dark. The glow of lights began to shine through thin, paper walls. Too restless to stay indoors, Tsukuyomi wandered over the temple grounds, enjoying the freedom while she could. That would end after tomorrow's duel, regardless of the outcome. If she won, they would turn her over to the Kansai Magic Association and it didn't take any special talent to know what her future would be. It was a sad end for somebody who only wanted to fight.

Ruefully, Tsukuyomi reflected on the irony of being born in the wrong century. Though this world was far from peaceful, wars were fought at a distance. Gone was the clash of arms as warriors fought each other face to face, testing skills honed razor sharp. Nowadays, scrawny men, who had never heard trumpets sound the charge, sat in little cubicles and listened to their mpeg players. They forswore the taste of fear and exultation of battle, opting instead to depress a tiny button.

How pathetic those men were as they obliterated a faceless enemy from the comfort of a chair. Their blood would never boil from the heat of combat. And only later would they know if they had hit their enemy or caused, in the parlance of today's antiseptic world, collateral damage.

Yes, the twin-blade should have been born in an earlier age, but at least she had her swords. Tsukuyomi could still recall the ring of steel against steel from the other side of the orphanage wall. The sound lured her next door with its siren song. An abandoned crate gave her access to the window where she saw children, some her age, intently gazing as two sword masters sparred. Light flashed as blades weaved in an intricate pattern, their artistry moving the youngster in a way no ballet or painting ever could.

The young girl had been thrilled to explore this marvelous world, a world where strong women demanded and received respect. How different from the orphanage that was, she observed. The simpering cows there, so afraid of causing offense, barely had the courage to stand up to their own shadows let alone the overbearing manager who lorded his position over them.

Only one thing had marred her idyllic life studying with the shinmei ryu, one Sakurazaki Setsuna. Tsukuyomi knew that girl had never set out to be her rival, but the hanyo's drive to improve set a standard that few could match. The novice's life became a round of praise followed by the ever-present "but not quite up to Sakurazaki-han's level." No matter how hard she tried, the masters never found her as swift, as graceful or as cleaver as the older girl. It had preyed on her until beating sempai became her greatest goal.

A goal she had several opportunities to fulfill over the past year. Strange how something always come up to prevent them from concluding their battles: the danger to the Konoe girl at Cinema Village, the sharp-shooter's arrival outside of Kyoto, and the immanent destruction of the Mundus Magicus had all conspired against her. And if that wasn't bad enough, she had lost one of the blades her master had given her.

She pulled the wakizashi from its sheath and stared at the naked blade as stars began to twinkle in the sky. The sword had been forged by a master of the Yamashiro School, and possessed a proud history; it and a matching katana had been presented to her by Master Aoyama before being sent to Amagasaki-han. Tsukuyomi mourned the katana's loss back in Ostia, but the shinmei ryu didn't regret the decision that led to it.

In the end, Fate-han and his backers had failed in their attempt to grab power in the Mundus Magicus. She had gone immediately to ground afterwards and spent the last months plotting how to release her mage. Amazingly, her former employer appeared, bearing the very information she needed. All the white-haired wizard asked in return was that she charge Sakurazaki-han with misdeeds.

Shortly after dawn tomorrow, she and sempai will meet one more time. 'Let tomorrow be an end to it,' the girl thought as she slipped the sword back into its scabbard. 'Whatever our duel decides, that I will accept.'

Ahead in the deepening gloom, she saw a man in a suit, a Westerner by appearance, peer through a screen of brush. A white shape perched on his shoulder and she recognized it as Springfield-han's pet. Her curiosity piqued, Tsukuyomi quietly approached.

"Are you sure that's the place?" the man asked in English.

"The only miko with short, red hair, lives in that building," the ermine answered. "So what now?"

"Give me a moment to think Albert-san?" his companion replied. "I didn't realize there'd be a guard."

Though the girl had not seen Markham-san yet, it wasn't difficult to guess the stranger's identity. The twin-blade had no reason to interfere with the two lurkers, but as an ally of Springfield-han, it might be useful to cultivate his acquaintance. Besides, her recent mood had been frighteningly dull.

"If you are talking about the seer," Tsukuyomi said, causing the man to spin about, "then perhaps I can help you."

"Tsukuyomi," Chamo gasped in surprise.

"Who?"

"This is the girl who Setsuna-san will fight tomorrow," the ermine explained. "What are you doing sneaking around?"

"I'm not a prisoner yet," the girl answered. "As for sneaking around, it seems to me that's what you two are doing."

"You must be that American they've been talking about," she continued. "So I'll ask again, would you like help getting past the guard?"

"And what would be the price for your help?" Phillip asked.

She fixed her cheeriest smile on him. "Would you believe I'm offering out of the goodness of my heart?"

The man responded with a sideways glance and half a grin. "Miss, are you familiar with the phrase 'there's no such thing as a free lunch'?"

--

The building had been originally built to store rice and other provision for the temple. Over the years since, it had seen many uses including a drying room for dyed cloth and a shed for the gardeners' tools. Now it housed a young woman who rarely left its confines.

As a middle school student, Yukimi experienced many seizures where she would see things that weren't there and babbled incoherently for minutes at a time. Her parents, convinced their daughter was possessed, brought her to the temple. They couldn't accept that the girl had a rare gift instead of demon in need of exorcising, so she was given to the temple to serve as a miko. Unable to control the visions that assailed her, the maiden withdrew into her room, insulating herself from the world.

At the behest of association's leader or one of the senior women, she made occasional forays outside but most of her time was spent here reciting the sutras. There were those who thought such behavior worthy of a holy woman, but Yukimi knew that wasn't true for her. The girl was hiding from other people, afraid of seeing what the future held for them. The masters had called this a gift, but she considered it more of a curse.

Konoe-sama had wanted her attendance last night when his daughter and her friends arrived. Her fear had been so great that he relented and allowed her to be enchanted so that the others wouldn't know she was present. 'Then I had to touch that foreigner,' the maiden shuddered while recalling the dark visions that flooded into her. 'So much sadness … sadness and death.'

Yukimi took a sip of black tea from a cup; it left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. Her head jerked towards to door as a commotion sounded outside. A girl's high-pitched shriek split the air as she spewed invectives about 'panty stealing vermin.' That was followed by the guard's shout of "get that damn animal off me!"

There was a great deal more yelling and stomping about, but the sounds soon faded away. Relieved, Yukimi took another sip as the door slid open; the foreigner with the dangerous futures stepped inside. "Miss Yukimi," he said, "I need to ask you some questions about this morning."

The cup fell and its contents spilled over the floor. "Don't come near me," the maid cried out as she backed against the wall. "Don't touch me."

Shocked, the man took a step backwards and dropped to his knees. "I'm not here to hurt you miss," he tried to assure her. "But I need to ask you about what I saw when you touched me."

"What you saw?" she asked, not believing what she heard.

"Yes, the hospital room, the garden, outside the school gym, all of it," he replied. The man's tone had a touch of desperation to it.

"You saw all that?"

"Yes," he answered. "Please tell me, was it true? Are those things going to happen?"

"Are you like me then?" she asked, hardly daring to hope.

"I don't know. Sometimes I can see what other people see or think about."

Unconsciously, Yukimi relaxed. If this Markham-san was indeed clairvoyant, he might understand. No matter how hard the people here tried, they couldn't know how she felt. The shrine maiden stood and bowed to her guest. "For…forgive my rudeness," she told him. Inwardly, she cringed at her strained voice, but continued on. "Pl…please come in Markham-san."

--

Eishun sat at his desk and reviewed the latest batch of invoices. The assembled leaders of the shinmei ryu were here at his request, but they were an expensive lot to house and feed. A knock roused the swordsman from the papers. "Come in."

One of the senior shrine maidens entered and informed him of a recent disturbance. "The guard outside Yukimi-san's house was assaulted by Springfield-san's pet," she reported. "It seems it was being chased by an irate girl."

The news brought a slight smile to his lips that was instantly wiped away when he was told the girl was Tsukuyomi. "Is Yukimi-kun alright?"

"That was the strange thing Konoe-sama," the woman replied. "When the guard returned to his post, he found the door open and Yukimi-san was serving tea to a guest."

"Guest?" Eishun responded, not bothering to hide his amazement. "What guest?"

"Your daughter's teacher."

"Springfield-san?"

'No, the other one," the woman answered. "The American."

As a member of the Crimson Wing, Eishun had seen much that had surprised him. He was pleased to note that he had not lost that capacity. The swordsman had watched with mounting concern as the young miko withdrew further and further into her shell. Perhaps …

"Is Yukimi-kun well?"

"So she informed the guard."

"Then we need worry no further about it," he said. Turning back to the invoices, he continued, "I'm glad you're here. I want to discuss a few changes with you."

--

Megalo-Mesembria

Many cities across the Mundus Magicus offered spectacular sights to travelers, from the gabled-roofs of Ariadne to the mirror-bright buildings and monuments of Tantalus by the Amazonian Sea. Few could fail to be impressed by the floating islands of Ostia, or by the fallen ones that littered the devastated landscape, silent victims of the Great War. Even grim Vairocana boasted of its Demon Market where one could mingle and barter with, at your own risk, otherworld denizens.

Megalo-Mesembria, as befitting its status as the capital city, provided many attractions for tourists from the sprawling gateport island, to homes of the wealthy and influential built on top of towering, granite pillars, to the complex of buildings housing the Council of Mages. Of course not everyone who walked along its streets was a visitor intent on expanding their horizons.

The blonde-haired woman with cat-like features was a case in point. Business, not pleasure, motivated her as she navigated the busy streets with feline grace, effortlessly avoiding contact with the surging crowds. Reaching her goal, a tiny café easily overlooked by those in a rush, she pushed open the door and entered to the sound of a chiming bell.

Few besides the man behind the counter paid any attention to the new arrival. She nodded her head in response to his glance of acknowledgement and made her way to the back booth. Cintilla Nekome, licensed and bonded bounty hunter, slid into the empty seat and gazed at the robed and hooded mage sitting on the opposite side of the table.

"Right on time," her companion commented. "So I take it you're accepting the job?"

"It's outside of my normal lane," Cintilla answered, "but I have no argument with the fee offered."

The bounty hunter's new employer pushed a large envelope towards her. "You'll find information on the mark inside as well as a ticket to Ariadne," the figure told her. "The whaleship leaves tonight."

"Not to seem entirely mercenary," the cat-girl said, "but about my fee?"

A hand with long, slender fingers appeared, hefting a leather bag. "Your initial payment," the mage explained, depositing the sack on the table with a satisfying chink. "All in Granican, silver Drachmas."

Her long ears, resembling a fox more than a cat, twitched in response. "And the balance?" she asked.

"Payable upon successful completion."

A small, pink tongue appeared and ran across the hunter's upper lip as she thought. Cintilla didn't have a high opinion of mages. Possessing no appreciable talent with magic, she resented it whenever the Council overstepped its authority and interfered with mere mortals such as herself. But there was nothing wrong with their money. Both bag and envelope disappeared within the folds of the bounty hunter's cloak as she replied, "We have a deal then."

--

**A/N: The chapter's title and snippet come from the song "Mirror's Reflection" by Taproot.**

**The following words are used and are listed with their translation:**

**Shihan – master**

**Soke – grand master**

**Wakizashi – a short sword worn by a samurai as a side weapon**

**Han – means the same as san but is used in the Kansai (western) region of Japan.**

**Gwyneth Springfield is the name I'm using for Nekane's mother, who we never see or hear anything about in the manga, much like Negi's mother.**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: And so the day of Setsuna's trial has arrived, and the pattern of plots begins to emerge from the many threads. My thanks to Makuhari-Fan and Fionn the Otaku; your suggestions are most welcome. Also, many thanks to those who took the time to send me a review. Your comments and encouragement are the greatest reward I can receive.**

**While reading, please keep in mind that Nagi is under an illusion that makes him appear as Dolnegus. Other characters will refer to Nagi by his assumed identity. Also the Anya in this story never fought Fate previously. For the sake of my continuity, let's assume she was on the balcony with the library girls during the gateport attack. **

**Negima and its characters, as well as the Aoyama sisters are owned by Ken Akamatsu. Phillip Markham Jr. and Yukimi are my characters.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, -telepathy-, _memories_

**When Swords Clash**

_I have no life save when the swords clash … Then howls my heart nigh mad with rejoicing –_** Ezra Pound**

* * *

Kyoto Japan

Removed from the city lights, the sky was filled with a countless number of stars. They twinkled like brilliant gems against the velvety black folds of night. Nagi sat enraptured by the view as they progressed in their stately dance. He had spent many evenings as a boy, gazing at their distant majesty. Was it any wonder he found concentrating on school work difficult with such a distraction at hand? If anything could be greater than the human spirit, it was the vast expanse of heaven that arched overhead.

Nearby, Anya fitfully slept, using his cloak as a ground cloth. Once more Nagi found himself with a girl following him about like a stray, thankful to have been scratched behind the ears instead of pelted with rocks. Though to be truthful, neither Eva-chan nor the Princess counted as girls since both were older than he was.

Thinking of them started another round of self-recrimination that the man stamped forcefully down. He had fallen into that trap too many times since his wife and friends died so he could play the hero one more time. And when Nagi thought he'd hit bottom, enemies attacked his remaining family and destroyed the village he had been born in. Seeing his brother and the others turned to stone had taught him what despair truly was.

For the past seven years, the former hero had been drunk. Like as not, he would still be had he not stumbled across two of his son's partners last Fall. Separated from their friends, those girls' example of courage and devotion had deeply shamed the mage. So much that he had fought to pull his life back together in the intervening months. Now enemies sought once more to harm those dear to him.

"I won't let you bastards touch them," Nagi swore to the faceless shades.

Pulling a slender, wooden scrap from a pocket, he recited the magic command to expand it to a full length staff. A familiar, lightning bolt shape brought a smile to the mage's lips. Cut from the heartwood of an Ofuda Tree from last year's harvest, its price would comfortably support a man for a year. 'I wonder if Chairman Dolnegus has missed it yet?'

"**Manman tero tero, potentio meus dimidiatus, potentio tui augeo,**" Nagi softly chanted a spell that would transfer a portion of his power into the staff. Weakening himself against a mage the caliber he expected to face was a dangerous gamble. Glancing at young Cocolova's face, the man knew it was a risk he had to take.

--

Kansai Temple, Kyoto Japan

In the hills above the Kansai Temple lay a secluded glade which provided a spectacular view of the carefully manicured grounds below. A solitary sentry stood watch as the sun's first rays crested the line of mountains east of Kyoto. The guard gazed down towards the buildings, particularly the courtyard where two Shinmei-ryu would soon duel.

Having served the temple for a number of years, the man knew that the dark-haired girl was exceptionally skilled; she had to be in order to protect the daughter of the association's leader. Her opponent had successfully penetrated the temple's defenses, released a captive mage and fought off a dozen or so guards while the prisoner escaped. The sentry wondered if maybe he shouldn't have wagered so heavily against the blonde swordswoman.

Distracted, he didn't notice the figure that materialized behind him. Hearing a throat clear, the sentry spun about to discover the intruder was a girl. At least she looked like a girl despite a pair of antler-like growths on either side of her head, or the pointed ears that stuck out from beneath her hair.

The girl's hand shot out and grasped his throat tightly. The guard felt himself lifted from his feet as long, thin fingers crushed his wind pipe. When he had stopped thrashing about, the girl released her hold and his body dropped to the ground with a thud. She pulled a card from the pocket of her skirt and held it to her forehead. - _All clear Master._ -

In response, a magic circle flared into being with a slender, white-haired boy at its center. Although the circle faded, Fate Averruncus remained. His face betrayed no emotion as he stared down at the throttled guard. When he spoke, his voice was dispassionate save for a hint of boredom. "Very good Shirabe."

Looking down at the temple, he noted the activity below. "Prepare your summoning spell," Fate told his ministra. "Let us make this a duel to remember."

--

"But why can't we be there?" a distraught Konoka asked. "We came here to support Se-chan."

"I don't understand," Negi added. "Why does Aoyama-san object to our being present?"

"Please understand that this is nothing personal against either of you," Toko replied. "The Shihanke is working to ensure the duel is fought fairly."

Asuna listened to the unfolding drama as Kuzunoha-san tried to calm her two friends. She was as confused as they were by this unexpected turn of events, but held her questions. After all, the woman wasn't saying she couldn't attend the duel.

"As a kaizoe, it is my responsibility to ensure that Sakurazaki-san's interests are protected," Toko explained. "Aoyama-san is similarly responsible and we must honor her request."

"Why would Aoyama-san make such a request?" Negi asked. "We're Setsuna-san's partners."

"Precisely," the woman answered. "Because of the bond you share with Sakurazaki-san, you could affect the outcome of the duel."

"What?" four voices chorused.

"Are they afraid Konoka-san and I would interfere?"

Mahora's Chief of Operations adjusted her glasses and gazed at their shocked faces. "Not intentionally," Toko responded. "But your bonds to her can't be blocked without some very specialized magic."

"The fear is that in merely desiring Sakurazaki-san do well, you might involuntarily boost her power," the woman continued. "That is why you two must stay here."

Konoka turned to Negi, and the boy could see the pleading look in her eyes. "Is that true Negi-kun?"

Asuna watched closely as her partner rubbed his chin in thought. "It is theoretically possible," he finally answered.

Unable to stand seeing her friends so dispirited, Asuna could no longer keep silent. "Can't some sort of arrangement be made Kuzunoha-san?"

"No!" Setsuna emphatically answered. All eyes turned towards the girl as their friend continued, "My honor has been called into question."

"I want both of you to be with me," the swordswoman admitted, "but we must adhere to the rules or this entire trial is a pointless charade."

"Thank you for understanding Sakurazaki-san," Toko said. "Thank you all."

With that, the woman left the room. "Se-chan?" Konoka called.

Asuna heard the unshed tears in her classmate's voice. "I need to check on something," she announced. "Give me a hand will you Negi-bozu?"

Outside, the baka ranger turned to her former teacher. "I'm sorry about that," she apologized. "I figured those two could use a few minutes to themselves."

Negi agreed and lapsed into one of his thoughtful silences. The boy had changed a lot over the last year Asuna decided. Physically he was taller, his shoulders had broadened and his face had lost some the childish roundness her classmates had found so cute. Negi could still be incredibly dense at times, yet more often than not he showed a maturity far beyond his years. 'It's true,' she thought. 'Negi-bozu's not a little boy anymore.'

The time was coming, not rapidly but it was out there, when Negi would no longer need a big sister to look out for him. According to Chamo-kun and a few others, whose words Asuna trusted over the perverted ermine's, 15 was the absolute youngest that a mage could make a permanent pactio. At that point he would need a permanent partner to stand by his side; someone who could guard his back and keep him pointed forward. Yet Negi would also need someone to build a home and family with too. It was that part of the equation that made the teenager pause.

Asuna hadn't really considered what her future would be like after graduation. With all that happened to her, it was certain she could never live a normal life. But did that mean she'd continue to be Negi's partner? To the teen's surprise, the boy before her had become the central figure her world revolved around. Asuna couldn't imagine not being with Negi, but she wasn't sure how far that commitment ran. Could she spend the day slaying dragons at his side and come back to a home full of screaming kids in the evening? She would willingly follow this boy into hell, but motherhood was an entirely different matter.

Did she even dare consider having a family? Being the Imperial Princess, or whatever, came with a lot of baggage she wouldn't wish upon any child. Asuna was the youngest of a nearly extinct family, heir to a non-existent kingdom, endowed with semi-phenomenal, nearly cosmic power and a potential pawn for every crackpot who wanted to rule the world. 'Some legacy, huh kids?' she thought sarcastically.

"Asuna-san."

She glanced up in response to Negi's call. "What is it?"

"After Setsuna-san deals with all this, what would you say to visiting my father's house?" he asked.

"Sure," she replied. "Konoka always likes going over."

"I thought maybe just you and I should go this time," the boy said nervously. "Uh, give Setsuna-san time to recover and I'm sure Konoka-san would want to stay with her. And I'm not sure I'm ready to share this with Phillip-san yet"

"Okay," she answered as Toko returned to fetch Setsuna. "I'll see you later," she told Negi as he followed the woman back into the room he and Konoka would be confined to.

As she approached the crowd of onlookers, Asuna spotted her homeroom teacher speaking with Eishun-san. "Leave it to me Markham-san," the Kansai leader said and then quickly walked away.

Phillip greeted her with a "good morning".

"Morning sensei," she responded. "I guess we'll see how good it is shortly."

They took their place among the crowd of observers. "Where are the other two?" the teacher asked.

"Aoyama-san was concerned that they could influence the trial," Asuna informed him, "so they'll stay inside the waiting room until it's over."

"I noticed you were talking to Konoka's father," she remarked. "Did you, um, hear anything?"

"No, I'm just being overly worried," the man answered. "I would appreciate it if you'd stay by me though."

The look Asuna returned wasn't her what's-going-on-you-need-to-start-spilling glare, that was reserved for Negi, but Phillip did feel compelled to explain himself. "I'd feel easier if I'm with someone I know."

A low murmur rose from the surrounding crowd then died away as the school's Grand Master took her position. Asuna noted that Aoyama-sama wore the same robes as the other masters, but still carried the red fan. A single katana was thrust into the woman's sash, though the student didn't know it was to prevent the appearance of favoring either opponent. Asuna watched in silence as the combatants and their seconds filed onto the field.

--

Tsukuyomi stood in the middle of the floor, dressed in her Shinmei-ryu robes for what in all likelihood was the last time. The little blonde-haired girl wasn't the type to get misty-eyed at such moments, but a sense of loss welled up inside her. She glanced about for a mirror, desperate to capture the instant and fix it in her mind. Not finding one, she pulled the wakazashi out and stared at its polished surface. A weak-willed child in ill-fitting clothes reflected back at her.

"Weak and unworthy," the twin-blade snorted as she thrust the short sword into its scabbard. "Just like him."

The "him" she referred to was the orphanage's manager, a man who thought that women existed to serve their male betters. He went out of his way to make the lives of the female staff and children as miserable as possible. Girls who misbehaved could expect a harsher punishment than the boys, who often did far worse, all in the name of teaching discipline. The happiest day of Tsukuyomi's short life was the one when she left that loathsome place.

With the Shinmei-ryu, the girl had found the home she had longed for. However, her happiness was about to vanish, and the youngster had only herself to blame. She had failed in her vow to be the best, failed to protect Amagasaki-han and, most of all, failed her teacher. The look of disappointment in Aoyama-sensei's eyes hurt worse than anything she had experienced before. Tsukuyomi would have gladly traded in the triumph of ten thousand battles not to have been its cause.

The door opened and the twin-blade sharply drew in her breath as Aoyama Motoko entered the room. Her sensei's presence filled her mind, scarce leaving space for any other thoughts. The woman radiated confidence and moved with a grace both beautiful and lethal. Here was discipline that laughed in the face of any stupid man's notions. The young girl stared awestruck at the very embodiment of all she aspired to.

Sensei wore the school's red and white robes with a katana belted on one side of her waist and a mechanical pencil clipped where the second weapon should be. The woman's hands carried a sword that Tsukuyomi had never seen before. Hastily the girl bowed in greeting. "Aoyama-sensei."

"I understand you mislaid your sword in the Mundus Magicus," Motoko said.

"Yes," she replied without further elaboration.

Sensei held out the katana and said, "Then use this blade for today's trial."

With unfeigned reverence, she grasped the katana. "May I?" she asked. At Motoko's nod of permission, Tsukuyomi drew the sword a hand's width from its scabbard and gazed lovingly at the blade. Little motes of light glinted along its edge, reminding her of stars.

"The sword is named Yosamu Tenkuu," she was informed as the woman helped secure the katana to her side. "Many masters of the school have carried it into battle."

Her mouth opened but not a sound came out.

"All is in readiness," Motoko finally said.

Nodding in understanding, Tsukuyomi followed her kaizoe out to the field. A simple rope separated the gathered masters from the area of combat, but she could see the air shimmer as shields of ki were put in place. Amongst the sea of traditional robes, it was easy to pick out the two observers in western garb. She was disappointed that neither Springfield-han nor the Konoe girl was present; it would have been better if all of sempai's allies were watching.

Sakurazaki and her second entered the field behind her and all faced the Soke and bowed. The kaizoe moved to their positions, where they would guard against interference. Her body began to respond in anticipation of the duel. A burning sensation started just below the pit of her stomach and spread outward; heat ran up her chest and into her face. Tsukuyomi's heart was beating so hard she could feel it throb in her eardrums. As Tsuruko spread open the crimson-colored fan and raised it high into the air, the young girl would have sworn a hundred drums were pounding.

Aoyama-sensei had understood the demons that drove her; how she needed to prove herself. Downward the red fan slashed, signaling the duelists to face each other. She would not disappoint again.

Swords rasped free of scabbards, allowing the morning light to glint off naked steel. Sempai disdained a defensive stance and held her nodachi high and parallel to the ground. It was a clear challenge and Tsukuyomi grinned in response to the unspoken intent. Only one supremely confident or beyond care for their own safety would choose to leave such a large opening. With weapons drawn, the two warriors glared at each other in a contest of wills. Many duels where won or lost in the battle fought before the first exchange of blows.

Quicker than the blink of an eye, both swordsmen had moved to the field's center and the clash of their weapons shattered the temple's tranquility. The nodachi thrust forward, to be stopped by the wakizashi. Sempai pulled her blade down, blocking the katana, and then rolled her weapon outwards. The blonde's swords were forced away by her opponent's longer one. The nodachi whipped forward, causing the twin-blade to jump back.

Blood welled from the shallow cut on her cheek. One would think Tsukuyomi held the advantage with two swords, but only if they could be brought in close. The nodachi was called big and clumsy; however, big gave the other girl greater reach and clumsy was a word never applied to a Shinmei-ryu. Here at last was the fight she had longed for! Her eyes shone with joy as Tsukuyomi leapt forward.

Her weapons were little more than a blur as they sang their deadly song. Again and again the nodachi countered each attack. Setsuna parried and then slashed in return. Forced back once more, she felt the sting of a new cut along her arm; another trophy to add to her collection. Sempai resumed her original stance, blade raised once more in open challenge. 'I need to get closer.'

Tsukuyomi reached into her robes and withdrew the ofuda charms Amagasaki-han had left for her. She cast them into the air and her opponent's expression showed surprise as each transformed into a swallow. Before the twelve constructs could strike, a shundo moved the dark-haired girl away from their path. While the birds banked in response, ki flowed into the nodachi. "Ougi Hyakuretsu Okazan!" Setsuna cried as the sword swung through its arc.

The swallows shredded into tiny pieces of paper. "Asuna! Down!" cried the American, but Tsukuyomi paid it no attention as she took advantage of the chance to close with her adversary. The katana thrust forward, cutting alongside the other girl's ribs, but snagged in sempai's robe. The nodachi dropped to the ground as Setsuna brought down her arm, trapping the sword against her side.

"Sensei!" Asuna shrieked from the crowd. "No!"

The wakizashi bit into her opponent's forearm, but sempai ignored the pain and grasped her by the wrist. Tsukuyomi could see a murderous fury blaze in the other girl's eyes and she hesitated a moment too long. Tightly griping the twin-blades arms, Setsuna flipped backwards. Feet crashed into Tsukuyomi's jaw, rocking the swordswoman's head back. Dazed, she felt the jarring impact as head and back thumped against the ground. Lights flashed as a magic circle appeared across the length of the field and the crackle of electricity sounded in her ears. "It's a trap," she heard sempai yell, followed by a clap of thunder.

--

Yukimi entered the cool, dimly lit interior of the hall where the Bodhisattva's image rested. The maiden stepped past rows of statues; their gilded surfaces gleamed in the faint, morning light. Reverently, with prayer beads properly draped over her right hand, the red-haired seer approached the altar.

Exiting her quarters without a summons had surprised the guard stationed to ensure her privacy. The poor man had been left in quandary as to follow his charge or stay at his post. Weakly, he raised a hand in greeting as she passed.

Observing the proper ritual, the woman bowed before the altar and then took a pinch of incense and placed it in the small burner. A fragrant cloud of smoke rose upwards, towards the suspended image of Kannon seated on a lotus petal. The Goddess smiled benignly upon the supplicant as Yukimi sent her unvoiced prayers aloft, hoping they would rise as did the smoke from the burning sandalwood.

'What should I do?' the miko asked, but the Goddess only smiled in return.

_"Are your visions bound to happen?" the foreigner had asked her last night. His voice had remained calm, but the man's body language spoke of both desperation and determination. "Or can they be changed?"_

_"The future is like the ocean Mister Markham," Yukimi had answered. "We have studied it for countless centuries, probed its depths and contemplated its nature, but who can truly say they know it? It is vast beyond our comprehension, filled with hidden currents and eddies."_

_"Put a message in a bottle and throw it into the sea," the miko continued. "Perhaps it might wash upon a distant shore and the person who finds it can act upon your message. That could occur, but what are the chances?"_

_"It's not in my nature to do nothing when I could be doing something," the American replied. "Maybe I'm just tilting at windmills, but I have to try."_

_Phillip set the tea cup down and rose. "Thank you for your time Miss Yukimi."_

_"Mister Markham," she had called and the man halted. The miko felt a single tear drop run down her cheek. "If I knew how to stop such awful things from happening, I would."_

_His returning smile seemed grim. "I don't have any more of a clue than you do," the teacher responded. "But I'll never get anywhere if I don't take that first step."_

As the miko's eyes regarded the reclining Goddess, Yukimi wondered at the man's behavior. Afraid of seeing what the future held, she had hidden in her rooms, but this one refused to cower in defeat. Smoothly carved lips continued to smile down upon her. The Goddess was called the One Who Hears the World's Cries.

"If I knew how to stop such awful things from happening," the girl's anguished cry echoed, "I would."

Behind her, something scuffled across the stone tiles. Yukimi lost her balance as she spun about and found herself regarded by a single black eye. From her position on the floor the miko noted the visitor was covered with a white plumage save for a patch of bare skin, colored an angry red, on the crown and back of its head. "Tsuru," the woman whispered as she recognized the crane.

Half-remembered tales, told by the fireside, flitted across her thoughts. Heavenly cranes that guided heroes or carried saints to paradise figured in many of those childhood stories. Over her years in the temple, Yukimi had seen many such birds as they migrated from the mainland to spend their winter months here. 'But this is spring,' she thought.

From outside the hall, the maiden heard the clang of sword upon sword and realized the duel had begun. The bird rose on its feet and spread wide its wings; throwing its head back, the crane warbled a mournful cry. Forgetting all protocol, the seer ran from the temple, pursuing the sounds of battle. She didn't see the bird watch her departure. Nor did she see how it gracefully inclined its head towards the altar, turn and leave the hall with its waddling gait.

As she reached the courtyard, Yukimi saw a group of swallows soar above the onlookers' heads. Recognizing the onmyo creatures for what they were, the maiden shouldered her way through the crowd. Eleven swallows turned in flight while a lone bird dove among the observers.

"Asuna! Down!" Markham-san yelled. The miko reached the front just in time to see the man fall to ground. Struck by the talisman, he had been turned to granite by its magic.

"Sensei!" screamed the girl next to him, the girl who was to have been the spell's victim. "No!"

'Too late,' the maiden thought. Her heart felt leaden in her chest. 'I'm too late.'

He had wanted to change the future and succeeded. She had wanted to act instead of huddle in fear, and had failed. 'What good is seeing the future if I can't do anything?'

Images exploded in Yukimi's mind; their force drove the seer to her knees. The girl wearing bells in her hair stood upright and held an enormous blade above her head. A dazzling brightness surrounded the sword as it swung down towards the stone figure and rock shattered at its touch. "Sword!" the miko shouted without realizing it. "Use your sword!"

Mystic symbols suddenly appeared, covering the length of the field. "It's a trap!" someone yelled.

"**Adeat!**" the school girl cried and the huge sword appeared as the first lightning bolt struck.

--

From a screen of bushes, Anya viewed the horned girl and her white-haired companion. "That's him," the youngster whispered, recognizing the white-haired boy from her vision.

"So you know him?" Dolnegus asked.

"I know of him," she answered. "He and his friends fought Negi back in the Mundus Magicus."

"I'm not sure who moose-girl is, but the boy is called Fate Averruncus," the bearded man told her.

"What do we do now?"

"I'm going to keep Fate busy for awhile."

His voice sounded casual, as if he proposed going for a stroll. But Anya stared at him as if the man had suggested dousing their clothes with petrol and setting them on fire.

"What kind of idiot are you?" the girl gasped. "From what I've heard, he's far too powerful. You'd need the strength of the Thousand Master to beat him."

"You're most likely right," Dolnegus replied. "Fortunately for me, I only need to distract, not beat him."

He turned to Anya, a fierce grin on his lips. "This is my battle with Fate, so stay out of it," the slaver warned her. "However, if you can do anything about the other one ..."

"Hold this," Dolnegus said as he handed his staff over. An instant later, he stood in the clearing. "What a glorious morning to be alive."

The two mages whirled about at his words. Fate's eyes widened in recognition though his expression remained unchanged. "What a surprise Chairman," the boy remarked. "Shouldn't you be in Granicus?"

"I got bored sitting around," the man responded. "I can only count my money so many times."

"Master?" Shirabe called.

"Continue the spell," Fate ordered. "I'll handle this interruption."

Before the white-haired mage had finished speaking, Dolnegus had closed the distance. Fate jack-knifed as a glowing fist buried itself in his stomach. Anya could see the shocked look on the boy's face just before his opponent's boot smashed into it and sent him sailing backwards.

While the lightning storm raged over the temple, another rumble filled the glade as the ground fractured and split asunder. Scores, no hundreds, of little, man-like creatures crawled forth from the wounded earth. Their appearance resembled tap roots that forked into legs and arms, while a tuft of vegetation sprouted from what could be termed the head.

"Mandragoras," Anya hissed.

--

Fate shook his head, trying to clear away the stars orbiting about it. Though mage's barriers still functioned, the power of the other man's blows had penetrated those defenses. While there were a dozen wizards that could presume to fight him evenly, the tycoon from Granicus shouldn't have been close to that level. 'Where did he get such power from?'

A hand, blazing like a comet streaking across the sky, collided with the boy's chin and he found himself lofted heavenward. Even as he flew upwards, Fate began to pull moisture from the rivers below. Following invisible tendrils, it coalesced into four copies of the mage. All five converged on their bearded opponent as Chairman Dolnegus rose to meet them.

Diving and twisting among them, the slaver evaded his attackers with contemptuous ease. His opponent uttered not a word, but the man's infernal smile taunted more than anything he could have said. Anger stirred within him as the frustrating battle continued. 'I will not be mocked,' Fate thought as he and his doppelgangers surrounded their foe.

"**Offendo meus hostilius!**" Dolnegus shouted. "**Catena fulgoris!**"

A bolt of lightning shot from the slaver's outstretched hand and struck one of the watery clones. As it vaporized, the electricity followed the wisps of water connecting the mage to his copies. Pain jolted Fate as the current passed through him and exited along another of the linking trails. Quickly, he broke the connections, causing the doppelgangers to pop out of existence.

A hand grasped his throat and forced the boy back. Faster and faster they plummeted earthward, like a falcon diving upon its unsuspecting prey. Deep within his adversary's eyes, Fate saw a look that pierced through to memories from long before his creation. 'No!' his mind cried out in disbelief. 'It can't be!'

Within his pocket, the boy's hand clenched a displacement magic charm and activated its power seconds before hitting the ground. No longer holding an opponent, Dolnegus struck hard. Like an acrobat, the slaver rolled over and over, dispersing kinetic energy that would have crushed his body. Fate, having teleported behind him, kicked the bearded man's face. He nearly snarled as his enemy smashed against a tree and slid down its trunk. 'Just a fool after all,' the white-haired mage thought. 'I must have been mistaken.'

His enemy smiled in response, as if privy to some private jest, and said, "**Meus virga.**"

--

The mandragoras were bounding down the hill towards the temple as their summoner continued her conjuration. Anya tried to recall what she could of the tiny, plant creatures. They were highly toxic and stories told that the monster's shriek could immobilize an opponent. Individually, mandragoras didn't have much physical strength, but even a superior foe could be swamped by numbers.

'But why attack the temple with a bunch of turnips?' the young mage thought and then the light bulb clicked on. Magical barriers were attuned to certain beings, such as demons, elementals or dragons. The temple grounds no doubt had those wards, but who would bother to guard against plants. And if the Shinmei-ryu were weakened by protecting against the magical storm then …

"I have to stop those things," Anya thought as she tightly gripped the staff Dolnegus left with her. "Maybe fire?"

-No good,- another's thought echoed in mind.

'What? Who was that?'

-I'm Dolnegus,- the slaver identified himself, -and this is simple telepathy.-

The girl watched as the beaded man landed an uppercut to Fate's jaw that launched the boy skyward. 'How' she started to ask but Dolnegus cut her off as he jumped into the air.

-No questions now, just listen to me. Fire will only take out those already out of the ground. You need to keep more from joining them,- he told her. –Do you know any ice spells?-

'Yes, but I'm much better with pyromancy.'

-It can't be helped,- he replied. –Keep hold of my staff and I can lend you some of my power.-

'But you're in middle of a battle!'

-Like I said, I only need to distract,- the man remarked. –Cast your spell.-

"**Fortis latius liris lirios,**" Anya chanted. "**Ego superna voco, frigus suspiro.**"

Power flooded into her, more than the girl had ever felt before. So much that she struggled to channel it into the spell. "**Aer glacialis truculenter efflo, hostes hostium velox gelo.**"

A biting cold wind blew from behind her, swirling her skirt with its force. It swept over the clearing, encasing all in its path in a crust of ice. The mandragoras in the area of effect lay still and nothing further issued from the now frozen earth. Unfortunately, the incantation hadn't touched the horned girl who was floating two meters above the ground. Anya swore as she leapt forward.

"**Adeat**," the ministra cried. A violin and bow shimmered into existence.

"**Pugnus flamma!**" the youngster shouted and swung a blazing fist at her opponent.

Shirabe countered by swiftly rising above her reach, letting the girl fall back to the ground. The bow screeched across the strings and the air about Anya exploded. When the debris cleared, the twelve year old mage stood in the blast center, blinking but otherwise unharmed.

-Move!-

'Thanks,' Anya thought back as she dodged into the trees, narrowly avoiding another sonic blast.

A pine tree shattered under the onslaught, its bark whizzed through the air like shrapnel. Anya's barriers sufficed to protect her from that, but surviving another direct hit was out of the question. She lay panting as one tree after another was destroyed by the mad musician. 'Any ideas?' Anya thought.

-Do you know the Saggita Magica?-

'Yes,' she replied as another pine burst asunder.

-This will require some close coordination,- Dolnegus warned. –And you'll have to get as close as possible to moose girl.-

'What are you planning?'

-Something simple,- he replied. –Now this is what you need to do ...-

Shirabe was annihilating swaths of trees in an ever widening circle when Anya, astride the wooden staff, zoomed out from her cover. The ministra's bow lifted but never touched the instrument as three magic arrows struck her. Anya's voice rang loudly, "**Kenotetos astrapsato de temeto! Dios Tukos!**"

A massive bolt of lightning struck the horned girl. Air sizzled in response, leaving behind the unmistakable smell of ozone. Her opponent fell to the ground unconscious, but Anya had no time to celebrate her victory as the staff sharply banked and sped off into the forests. 'What are you doing?' the little mage raged as she swerved first this way and then that to evade trunks and low hanging branches.

-I have a little problem,- came the unexpected reply.

Griping the staff tightly, Anya began her incantation, "**Fortis latius liris lirios.**" As she broke into the clearing, she saw the white-haired wizard standing over Dolnegus.

"**Omne flammans flamma purgatus," **she cried. "**Domine extinctionis et signum regenerationis.**"

Fate whirled upon her, the boy's hand raised before him in a counter spell, but hearing Dolnegus begin an incantation too allowed Anya the time to complete her spell, "**In mea manu ens inimicum edat! Flagrantia rubicans!**"

Flames rushed towards the wizard who turned his back dismissively on them. Anya swerved to evade the sudden conflagration that engulfed Fate. Above the roar, Dolnegus shouted, "**Dios Tukos!**"

The wizard stared in utter disbelief as his matchless defenses crumbled under the combined fire and lightning attacks. Landing next to her bearded companion, Anya watched as their scorched foe tottered and then fell. "We … we beat him."

"Not quite," the man replied and Anya watched the defeated magician vanish in the glare of a magic circle.

"Damn!"

She spun back on her ally, her face a furious red. "And what about you?" she cried. "Who in the blazes are you?"

"I'm a just a wealthy merchant from Granicus."

"And I'm the Oracle of Delphi!" she shouted back with arms crossed in front of her chest. "You owe me that much at least."

"Sore wa himitsu desu," Dolnegus answered as his mouth twisted into an oddly familiar smirk.

--

Tsuruko completed her shielding spell as the anti-army landmine activated beneath the crowds' feet. A jagged bolt of lightning struck the field, charring the grass to grey and black ash. The Soke sensed other barriers snapping into place around her. Tsukuyomi lay prostrate, still stunned from Setsuna's last blow; however, the twin blade's kaizoe expanded the warding to protect both from the magically summoned storm. Such traps were common enough in the Magic World, though restricted to military use. This was the first instance the swordswoman knew of, that one was used in this world. Clearly the Council of Mages no longer had the ability, or perhaps they lacked the will, to prevent smuggling of such contraband.

Another stroke impacted against the woman's shield. It held firm, but for how long she wondered. On average, a mine lasted less than two minutes. Most of the masters could withstand that, but the drain on their ki would be immense. 'A cleverly laid trap,' Tsuruko admitted with begrudging admiration. 'We're pinned down and wasting our energy. But then what?'

Even with their power depleted, a Shinmei-ryu was a dangerous opponent. Many demons had learned that lesson to their dismay; a sword was far more than a focus for channeling attacks. 'Could this be a feint?'

Mages had attacked the temple before, but this felt like a delaying tactic. 'What could their target be?' the woman wondered and then felt her stomach sink as the realization hit her. 'The ojou-sama!'

Konoka was conveniently sequestered away from the her guard and Konoe-sama's followers weren't aware of it. True, she was with the Springfield boy and he was a strong combat mage by all accounts. Yet the amount of detail shown indicated a well thought out plan. Preparations for that contingency were undoubtedly made.

More thunder claps sounded as a flurry of bolts homed in on a single point. Amazed, Tsuruko watched as another bolt twisted, wrenched from its path by an unseen force, to be drawn to the enormous blade held aloft by a bell-wearing teen. 'It's true,' she thought, staring at the girl's blank expression. 'She is more than a magic canceller.'

With Asuna neutralizing the attacks, the Shinmei-ryu were free to take other actions. "Setsuna-san! See to the ojou-sama!" the Soke shouted.

Before Tsuruko had finished the sentence, Setsuna was racing to her partner's side with Kuzunoha-san close behind. Out of the corner of her eye, she noted Motoko assisting the twin blade to her feet.

"Swords!" she yelled and over 50 blades slid from their scabbards in response.

After 100 seconds, the magic glyphs faded as the spell dissipated. Tsuruko moved close to Asuna and saw that the girl stood over the prone figure of her teacher. Skin and cloth had a dull, grey sheen as the morning light reflected from stone. Next to the petrified man knelt one of the temple maidens, a young woman with short, red hair.

The miko looked up at Asuna. "Use your sword," the maiden said. "Shatter the stone."

"Konoka will be here in a moment," the teen replied. "She can turn him back."

"No, he is wrapped in stone like a caterpillar in its cocoon. You must break him free."

"But I might hurt him."

"Do you know the Stone-Cutting Sword?" Tsuruko asked. The Soke resisted smiling in response to the embarrassed look on the girls' face. "Setsuna-san is in no greater trouble if you do."

Reluctantly, Asuna nodded her head. "Then use it," Tsuruko said.

A frown of concentration came over the student's face as her hands were enveloped in the glow of energies. Kanka surged into the sword hefted high above her head. "Zanganken!"

Blade struck stone and sent splinters of rock flying. A fine mesh of lines scored the granite and spread across the surface, not unlike cracks in an egg shell. The miko began sweeping fragments from the man's face and was rewarded by a frantic gasp of breath.

"Mandragoras!" a shout went up.

The masters formed a defensive circle about the three non-Shinmei-ryu as the creatures rushed at them from all sides. A storm of swords was unleashed upon their hapless foes, who continued to charge lemming-like to destruction. With katana in one hand and fan in the other, Tsuruko hewed at the steady stream of monstrous plants. Her sister stood to her left, slashing left and right with her blade.

"Goutatsu Amakiri!" Motoko shouted and a dozen mandragoras were sliced with a chef's precision.

Just beyond the Shihanke, Tsuruko saw as flash of blonde hair and steel as eight more of the creatures were cut to ribbons while Tsukuyomi screamed, "You're ruining my fight!"

Several hundred mandragoras lay scattered about by the time Setsuna and the others appeared. The miko and Asuna were still removing pieces of rock from the partially encased American. He glanced up at the temple maiden and cryptically asked, "So what did the message say?"

Smiling, the red-haired woman replied, "That one can never know what surprise will wash up on the shore."

--

**A/N: This represents the halfway point of my second arc, so congratulations for sticking with me this far. The chapter heading is from the poem 'Sestina: Alaforte' by Ezra Pound.**

**Lots of foreign words and phrases this time around. Below are translations. **

**Potentio meus dimidiatus, potentio tui augeo – "divide in half my power, increase your power"**

**Offendo meus hostilius! Catena fulgoris! – "Strike my enemies! Chain lightning!"**

**Meus virga – "My wand"**

**Ego superna voco, frigus suspiro! Aer glacialis truculenter efflo, hostes hostium velox gelo! – "****I summon you northeast wind, winter draw deeply your breath! Icy air blow fiercely, freeze fast my enemies!"**

**Pugnus flamma – "Fist of flame"**

**Kenotetos astrapsato de temeto! Dios Tukos! – "Come forth from the void, O Thunder, and cut down my enemy! Axe of Lightning!"**

**Omne flammans flamma purgatus, Domine extinctionis et signum regenerationis. In mea manu ens inimicum edat! Flagrantia rubicans! – "Ever-burning Fire of Purification, Lord of Destruction and Sign of Rebirth, Spring Forth from My Hand and Throttle My Enemy! Red Blaze!"**

**Ougi Hyakuretsu Okazan – "Hundred-Strike Cherry Blossom Slash"**

**Zanganken – "Stone-Cutting Sword"**

**Goutatsu Amakiri – No idea but Motoko uses the technique to slice and dice vegetables in 'Love Hina'**

**Yosamu Tenkuu – "cold night sky"**

**kaizoe – "second" or "assistant"**

**Sore wa himitsu desu - "that is a secret" (no points for recognizing the source of this line, in fact you lose two if you don't)**


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: For the moment, enemy plans have been foiled and the heroes regroup. Choices are given and paths must be determined.**

**Thanks again Fionn the Otaku for your suggestions. Also many thanks to my Train Station cohorts. It's always nice to have a group of people to ask advice from. And you're correct Haissan. I've only recently started in on the Slayers saga, but Lina and crew have quickly become favorites. Almost makes me want to do a crossover.**

**Negima, Love Hina and its characters belong to Ken Akamatsu. Masuda Chiho, Kaede's ninpo instructor and cousin, belongs to Makuhari_Fan01. Phillip and Hiro are my OCs.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**

* * *

**The Road Divides**

_Two roads diverged in a yellow wood … and both that morning equally lay in leaves no step had trodden black. – __**Robert Frost**_

Kansai Temple, Kyoto Japan

Tsukuyomi stood on a field littered with the remains of sundered mandragoras. Tiny, green flecks from the plants had splattered over her hair, skin and robes. Newly acquired wounds to cheek and arm stung, while muscles shook from fatigue. Setsuna's reappearance was like a spark in dry brush that exploded in a blaze of anger. "Sempai!"

"Fight me!" the twin blade screamed as Setsuna hurriedly raised the nodachi. Dark motes swam around the edges of her vision as she lifted her own weapons. The ground lurched suddenly as the swordswoman's balance deserted her. Hands gripped her shoulders and turned Tsukuyomi onto her back. Shadowy faces, backlit by the morning sun, stared down.

"What is it?" an angel's voice asked.

"Mandragora poison," answered another.

"Can you heal her Konoka-san?" a third voice asked.

"I'll need to use some of your power Negi-kun," the first angel replied.

"Do it," came a firm response.

That last thing Tsukuyomi remembered, before darkness fully claimed her, was a whispered word, "**Adeat**."

She was still on her back when consciousness returned, but rested indoors upon a futon. Without her eyewear, everything was a blur of light and dark patches. Her mouth and throat were dry as if water had last touched them years ago. "Glasses," the twin blade croaked as hands fumbled about. "Can't see a thing without my glasses."

"A moment," a soothing voice told her. Strong hands helped the Shinmei-ryu to a sitting position and a cup of cool water was held to parched lips. Greedily she gulped its contents down. "You need to drink" she was informed as another cup was pressed upon her.

Between sips, the missing glasses were placed upon her face. One blur resolved into Aoyama Motoko's face. "Thank you sensei."

"You had me concerned for a moment," her teacher remarked.

"What happened?"

"The mandragora's poison had entered your body, probably through one of your wounds," Motoko answered. "Fortunately, the ojou-sama is a skilled healer."

Tsukuyomi glanced down at her arm to find the skin whole again, no trace of the cut Setsuna gave her. Fingertips gently probed her cheek and found it smooth as well. Memories of other wounds the chocolate-haired mage healed sprang unbidden to the swordswoman. "Yes, she is quite skilled."

"So what happens to me now Aoyama-sensei?"

"You are to be placed into the Kansai Association's custody."

"I expected as much," Tsukuyomi replied and glanced down at her hands, imagining them as fur covered paws.

"You never explained how you lost your katana in the Mundus Magicus."

"I ran it through a demon," Tsukuyomi responded. "The sword vanished with the creature when it dematerialized."

"Then your training served you well," the woman commented. "But I wonder why were you fighting a demon?"

"I was in the middle of a battle when I spotted the demon creeping up on a bystander unawares," the twin blade reluctantly answered. "My only chance to save that person was to break off the fight and charge."

"Don't you regret its loss?"

"Not one bit," she replied without hesitation.

"Do you know what the real difference between you and Setsuna-san is?"

"No," Tsukuyomi answered. She braced for her teacher's rebuke though dreaded to hear it. "What is it?"

"Setsuna was given into our care when she had nowhere else to go," Aoyama-sensei told her. "You came to us because you wanted to be here."

The woman who would one day become the Grand Master of the ryu paused while the twin blade continued to silently regard her hands. "Tsuku-chan," Motoko said, causing the girl's head to jerk up. "You still have choices to make."

Tsuku-chan. How many times during the past year had the twin blade felt like a boat drifting aimlessly on the sea? Yet a few, simple words electrified her as if spoting a rescue ship steaming over the horizon. "Choices sensei?"

"A Shinmei-ryu must be able to follow a path whether it is brightly lit or covered in darkness," her sensei reminded her.

Motoko grasped a hand, turned it palm up and set her hand over top. Tsukuyomi heard a crinkle and felt the smoothness of folded rice paper against her skin.

"Setsuna-san must learn to stand in the broad light of day," the woman said as she removed her hand. Tsukuyomi stared down at the shikigami. "I ask you to follow a different path."

--

Landscaped with the most meticulous care, the garden provided a welcome oasis where one could enjoy a respite from the hustle and bustle of daily life. Still clad in her robes from earlier, Setsuna walked down the gravel path side by side with her classmate Asuna.

"Why does Aoyma-sama want to speak with both of us?" the bell-wearing teen asked.

"She had questions about your training."

"I'm sorry for getting you in trouble," Asuna apologized. "I would never have asked if I'd known."

"We've fought together so much that you were beginning to mimic my techniques," she replied. "I agreed that it was better you knew what you were doing."

From up ahead, they heard metal clash against wood, as Tsuruko's voice mocked, "Is that the best you can do?"

Gravel crunched under feet as the pair drew weapons and charged. Rounding a screen of bamboo trees, both girls halted in amazement at the sight that greeted them. Motoko's shirasaya whistled towards her sister's head, but the katana easily deflected the blow. "You've grown lazy," Tsuruko commented scornfully as she struck back. "University life obviously agrees too well with you."

Both teens gasped as the younger woman's hand incepted the sword. Fear turned to shock as the blade failed to slice the hand into bloody ribbons.

"And marriage has made you a shrew onee-san," Motoko retorted as her opponent was forced back by her counter-attack. "Not that you weren't a nag before."

The Shihanke moved so swiftly that it appeared as if several Motoko's attacked at once. Her sister spun in place, long, black hair tailing behind her, and calmly countered each blow.

"Too slow," Tsuruko taunted. "Perhaps you're preoccupied with thinking up trashy romance plots."

Shirasaya slashed towards the Soke's knees; Tsuruko sprang up and swung her own weapon down.

"The pen is mightier than the sword," Motoko quoted as a decapitating stroke was again halted, seemingly by her bare hand. "It wouldn't hurt you to do something creative for once."

Battle and banter continued for several more minutes. "As interesting as the discussion is," Tsuruko said, "we should end it now and attend to our guests."

"Agreed," the younger woman responded. Quicker than the eye could follow, the combatants rushed past each other, delivering their final attacks. Weapons outstretched, neither woman moved. Setsuna saw a flutter of ribbons hanging from the shirasaya and Motoko smiled in triumph; she had snared the decorations from her sister's sword hilt. "Looks like I win," she laughed.

It was then that the victor's robes parted and fell open, leaving her bare from throat to navel. Motoko's face reddened at her sister's chuckle. "I think not," Tsuruko said as she returned the katana to its scabbard.

Both girls gaped at Tsuruko as she approached. "Your Ougi Zanganken was impressive," the woman told Asuna. "It speaks well of your training. But I wonder why you learned it."

Setsuna glanced at her friend who seemed at a loss for words. "We've been battling early non-stop since our trip to the Mundus Magicus last summer," she offered. "When Asuna started to channel ki in her attacks, I realized our safety depended on her knowing how to do it correctly."

"So you started using ki spontaneously?" Motoko asked as she gathered the front of her robes together.

"No, it's not spontaneous," Asuna answered. "More like I'm remembering something learned long ago and forgotten."

Setsuna watched as the two leaders of the school studied Asuna. While this setting was more relaxed that a formal session before the assembled masters, the swordswoman realized that the answers given would be just as critical.

"Do you desire to learn more?" Tsuruko asked.

Though seemingly baffled by the question, Asuna answered in the affirmative. The Soke then faced Setsuna. "Please explain our ryuha to your friend."

Squaring her shoulders and holding hands behind her back, Setsuna resembled an elementary student about to recite a lesson. "Tradition tells us that many centuries ago, two armies, the Kauravans and the Pandavas, faced each other across Dharmarkshetra, the field of righteousness. To the victor would go the throne of Hastinapura."

"As the two forces fell into formation, the Pandavas Prince, Arjuna, felt his heart grow heavy at the sight of his kinsfolk arrayed before him. He saw among them uncles who had held him on their knees as a child, the master who had taught him the way of the bow, beloved friends and revered elders."

"Turning to his charioteer, Prince Arjuna admitted how his heart was torn by indecision. 'Is it worthwhile to annihilate my own kindred for the sake of a kingdom?' he asked."

"The charioteer, who was in truth Lord Krishna, the ninth avatar of Vishnu, reminded the prince of his obligation to uphold righteousness. 'For the Kauravans are of evil,' Lord Krishna declared. 'And it is your sacred duty to combat wickedness without consideration of personal loss, consequence or reward'."

"To fulfill one's moral obligation, He told Arjuna, supersedes all other pursuits, whether spiritual or material, in life."

"So strengthened by the Supreme One's words, Prince Arjuna led his forces forward. The battle lasted 18 days and many warriors perished on either side. But in the end, the Pandavas army prevailed."

"The lesson of Arjuna was carried forth by holy men throughout the whole of India, into Tibet, on to China, and at last to the shores of Japan," Setsuna continued. "It is our guiding principle, the heart of Shinmei-ryu."

"Our techniques are used to battle demons and other creatures that prey upon the defenseless," Motoko added. "Are you prepared to be guided by this principle in order to learn more Kagurazaki-san?"

Setsuna watched as a frown of concentration tugged at Asuna's mouth. Altruistic notions had nothing to do with the girl's decision to learn kendo, nor with her desire to improve. However, incidents from the mechanized dinosaur at the festival to the demon in California showed that her concern was for more than just Negi and friends.

"I sought this knowledge to aid those close to me," Asuna admitted. "But in knowing that I can help others, I realize I am responsible to do so."

"Then will you join us Kagurazaki-san?" Tsuruko asked. "Will you become Shinmei-ryu and continue the path you have started?"

Setsuna had forgotten to breath, so caught by surprise at the question. By the look on Asuna's face, her friend was equally shocked.

"This is a choice not lightly made," Tsuruko pointed out, "so take what time you need to consider your reply."

The Soke fixed her eye on Setsuna next. "Sakurazaki-san," the woman called in a voice that caused the school girl to snap to attention. "The masters of the school have decided upon your punishment."

"What is it to be?"

"Upon your return to Mahora you will be responsible to instruct Okuiri, those who have just begun their studies as Shinmei-ryu."

"But … but I am still Okuiri myself," she protested.

A gleam was visible in the woman's eyes as a scroll was removed from her robes. "As Soke of Shinmei-ryu, in accordance with our traditions, I do certify that Sakurazaki Setsuna has mastered the first syllabus to the extent that she is licensed as Shomokuroko on this 30th day of April, 2004, Heisei 16," she announced while presenting the scroll. Both sisters sported grins. "Are there any further objections to the sentence?"

--

Konoka ran the heart-tipped wand over her English teacher. Failing to detect any anomalies, the healer rocked back on her heels. "What's the prognosis doc?" Phillip quipped.

"You're in fine condition Markham-sensei," she replied. "No indication of any lasting effect from the spell. How do you feel?"

"Okay, other than a desire to be outside," the man answered. "For some reason I'm uncomfortable with enclosed spaces right now."

"Well if that makes you uncomfortable, wait until you see my bill," Konoka said with a giggle. Her expression turned serious. "Why didn't you tell us what was going on?"

"Excuse me?"

"You knew what was going to happen to Asuna, didn't you?" the girl accused. "But you didn't say anything. Isn't that why Se-chan asked you to come along?"

"No, I didn't know," Phillip answered. "At least I didn't have any specifics."

"The miko I told you about, showed me several visions of the future," her teacher explained. "But they had no context. No way to tell what brought them about."

For more than a thousand years, the Konoe family had been one the privileged few to stand closest to the throne, providing ministers, spouses and regents for the Imperial house. A thousand years of history converged upon a single girl in whose veins pulsed the same blood as her distinguished ancestors. A magical potential greater than any of her forbearers hid behind her cheerful smile. Yet potential and bloodlines would not serve at this moment. A greater power was called for.

"Please sensei," Konoka said, "I need you tell me all that you saw."

She watched Markham closely as he cocked his head to the side and considered her request. "Very well," Phillip finally replied. "Best we start at the beginning."

"The first vision was of you sitting up in a hospital bed," he commented as a smile started to break out. "By the way, she's very beautiful."

"Who's very beautiful?" Konoka asked, confused by the seemingly random remark.

"Your daughter," Phillip answered. "I think she has your eyes."

--

Mahora, Japan

Dressed in a black tee-shirt and denim shorts, Kaede strolled into the clearing with a relaxed gait. As the tall kunoichi glanced about, memories of previous days spent here sprang up like wildflowers after a rain shower. Cousin Chiho brought the new genin here to train on the weekends when the older girl didn't have classes. By the time Kaede was accepted at the middle school, she had made the twice a month trip so many times that her first day of class felt more like a homecoming.

Eyes, squinted against the daylight, fell upon the stand of trees Negi-bozu had stumbled out of, looking so pained and confused. It was hard to believe that happened a little more than a year ago. Not much had changed here since then, save that there were two barrels for bathing. A grin spread across Kaede's face as she recalled his reaction when she stripped and joined him in the makeshift tub. However, Negi's unease was nothing compared to Kotaro-kun's. "Boys," she murmured to no one in particular. It had taken two hours of coaxing before Inugami came down out of the pine tree. "They get so worked up over the tiniest things."

From behind, Kaede heard a thrashing sound as her classmate pushed her way into the glade. Struggling under the weight of a loaded backpack, Ayaka wiped beads of sweat from her brow. Several scratches were visible along the class rep's bare arms and legs while a number of pine needles stuck out from her long, flowing hair. Iincho's face was flushed underneath smudges of dirt. Instead of complaining, the girl merely asked, "Are we there yet?"

Relief flooded the class rep's features as Kaede nodded in response. The backpack slipped from her shoulders and landed with a soft thud. As her classmate looked about, it was easy to tell Ayaka wasn't impressed with her sensei's choice of training locale. To be truthful, the kunoichi would have preferred to use Evangeline-san's resort; however, after the mage's assassination, none of the team could bring themselves to visit the cabin.

"So what do we do next?" Ayaka asked.

"We need to set up the tent and gather firewood," Kaede answered. "Then we should go fishing."

"Fishing?" the class rep replied, her face clouding over. Before she could utter a word of protest, Kaede's phone vibrated as the strains of 'Speak Softly Love' played.

Without bothering to look at the caller's identity, she flipped the cover up and answered, "Hello Negi-bozu."

Kaede nodded her head as she listened to the boy's rapid fire explanation. "I understand," she said. "You can count on me."

"What's wrong?" Ayaka asked, clearly concerned at the mention of Negi's name.

"There was an attempt like on the school trip made against those at Kyoto."

"Is Negi-sensei alright? Um, and the others of course."

"He and they are fine," Kaede assured her. "But he wanted to warn us to be on guard here."

While Ayaka was obviously relieved to hear of the boy's safety, the class rep seemed to be depressed over something the kunoichi couldn't quite put her finger on.

Iincho's cell phone exploded into the refrain from the 'Hallelujah Chorus.' Perplexed, Ayaka looked at the number calling and then eagerly answered, "Hello Negi-sensei."

The girl's face grew more animated as she listened to the voice on the distant end. "It's no bother," Ayaka replied. "I'll get right on it."

After hanging up, the blonde girl started clicking on the number pad. "Hello, Chizuru? Who are you with?" the blonde girl asked. "Okay, this is what I need you to do …"

Understanding began to sink in as she observed the other girl quickly improvise a calling tree. Being the class president, Ayaka had a responsibility towards their classmates but until this moment, Kaede hadn't realized just how much it hurt the girl to have been kept on the outside as danger swirled about them all. 'Maybe it isn't too late to correct our mistake.'

--

Kyoto, Japan

Even on a Friday afternoon, few cars drove down the road fronting the Kansai temple. An unusual couple stood next to the bus stop, a high school aged girl and a younger boy. Glancing at the pair, one could easily think they were watching a brother and sister. A few minutes later, the bus pulled up to let two more fares on. Quietly, they made their way to an empty bench and sat down.

Negi placed a finger inside his collar and pulled the suddenly constricting band out. "Why don't you ditch the tie and unbutton your shirt?" his companion asked. "Geez, even Markham-sensei isn't wearing a suit today."

Mechanically, he loosened the tie and after stuffing it into a coat pocket, unfastened his collar button. Negi had asked Asuna to come along because he wanted to talk with her, but he couldn't think of how to start. His alma mater in Meldiana taught the why's and wherefore's of pactios, but oddly, they left out how one asks a partner to form one. At the moment, it seemed a serious deficiency in the school curriculum. Blurting out "Hey Asuna, want to make our pactio permanent?" just didn't seem the way to do it.

"Earth to Negi," Asuna teased. "What's got you in such deep thought bozu?"

"I was thinking about the future," he answered. "I know its still a few years away, but I was wondering about a permanent pactio."

"Oh," the girl remarked and then fell silent.

Butterflies that had fluttered around the boy's stomach started to do barrel rolls as he nervously watched her face. 'Is Asuna upset?' he asked himself. 'Angry? Disinterested?'

When she spoke again, her tone was coolly casual. "So have you decided who you're going to ask?"

"No," he lied. "Who do you think would make the best partner for me?"

Asuna's cheek twitched once and then remained still. "Doesn't that depend on who you want to spend the rest of your life with?"

"I guess it does."

Another minute passed in awkward silence before Asuna spoke again. "Honya-chan doesn't pack much offense, but she can provide you with a wealth of information on your opponent," she remarked. "And there's no doubt about how Nodoka feels about you."

He felt a rush of heat in his face at that comment.

"Yue's turning into a big-time mage and her artifact is very useful too," his former student continued. "She's also smart enough that you listen to her without arguing. Makes the rest of us a bit jealous."

'Jealous?' he thought.

"Ku Fei is a strong fighter and rates pretty high on Chamo-kun's suki, suki Negi list …"

"Master Ku?"

"You really are clueless," Asuna accused. "Chisame, Konoka, Setsuna … we all care about you."

"Does that mean Asuna-san cares as well?"

His companion frowned in response. "I said we and I meant we."

Negi hung his head down, unable to look at his partner. This conversation was not going in the direction he had hoped for. The boy valued each of the girls on the team and cherished his friendship with them, but it wasn't reasonable to expect they would all stay together. "I've made such a mess of everything," he murmured.

An arm reached around his shoulders and pulled him in close. "Don't go emo on me Negi," Asuna scolded. "What's this about?"

"I wanted to ask how you'd feel about becoming my permanent partner," Negi answered. He could feel her stiffen but she kept hold of him. "However, I can't offer you any of the rest: home, family. I know I'm being selfish."

A hand cupped his chin and turned his head to the side. "Let's get something straight," Asuna said, still frowning. "Mahora is my home; you, Takahata-san, Konoka and the others are my family."

"You aren't denying me anything," the girl continued. As she spoke, the corners of her mouth inched upwards. "But it is a few years still before we should have this talk. Until then, I'm here for you."

"Thank you A…Asuna."

She looked startled and then relaxed. "Hey, what's with the informality?"

"Well you did say you consider us family," Negi explained. "Do you mind?"

"No. It sounds kind of nice."

--

Anya gazed down at the man stretched out on the bed asleep. Dolnegus was banged up pretty good during their recent battle yet had refused to avail himself of the temple's healers. While her cura spell was equal to a mundane emergency room, the young mage would have preferred if they had gone to a hospital. Turning away, she left the bedroom muttering "You and your stupid secrets," under her breath.

Having spent the past two days in her school uniform, the girl decidedly she needed to feel clean again. Clothes found their way into the washing machine and Anya slipped into the bath. Warm water sprayed from the shower head, splashing against her skin. Small hands grabbed the bar of soap and worked up a lather. Tension rinsed away with accumulated grime, and she began to slowly relax.

Thoughts replayed her recent battle with Fate and his ministra. Dolnegus obviously knew what had been planned and who was involved; but that didn't explain why the slaver would be personally involved in stopping it. A man with his resources could have hired his own army. 'Then again,' she thought, 'he doesn't need an army.'

'Could he be working with that Harbinger fellow?' the girl suddenly wondered. Recalling the class trip, Anya had met the Harbinger in the airport lavatory just after her classmates had been beaten their kidnappers. The old wizard claimed to serve the Mage Council and had shown her a vision of Fate and another of Negi's enemies conspiring. 'If those two are in cahoots?'

More information was needed Anya decided as she turned the water off. She had resolved to call her roommates when a better thought came to her, 'Ayase-san. That artifact of hers would be perfect.'

From beyond the bathroom door, a familiar voice called, "Hey! Somebody's doing their laundry!"

'Asuna-san? What's she doing here?'

"Not so loud," another voice warned.

'Negi? Oh God!' Forgetting all else, Anya threw open the door and rushed outside, only to collide into a body. Her charge knocked both to the floor, forcing a "whumpf!" from the girl. Sitting up, she found Asuna, harisen in hand, staring down at her. Following her classmate's gaze, Anya realized she was straddling Negi's waist, dripping water onto his shirt and trousers.

"Hello Anya," Negi squeaked. "What a surprise to find you here."

Her childhood friend's eyes turned from shock to fear as the veins in Anya's forehead throbbed dangerously. "Why do these stupid things happen to me?" she shouted in rage. "And what are you looking at Negi?"

"What's going on?" all three heard. Dolnegus, half dressed and ribs bound, stood in the doorway. Anya's anger quickly gave way to embarrassment as a small smirked formed on the bearded man's face. She cast around for a rock to hide under, or throw, as he chuckled, "Does this ever remind me of the old days."

--

Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus

As he shook another hand thrust out in grateful acknowledgement, Hiro wondered just how long this mythical 15 minutes of fame was going to last. For someone who depended on anonymity, the spotlight's glare was uncomfortable. While some people got off on being the center of attention, like they were some kind of rock star, his preference was to be less conspicuous; he couldn't even go to the men's room without a deluge of well-wishers.

'This will die down soon enough,' Hiro reflected. 'Then I can go back to being as unnoticed as a janitor, or a plumber.'

"Bless you young man," said the round, shaggy face that reminded him of an Old English Sheepdog. She, or so the assassin supposed it was a she, released his hand and took a step back. "You're a true role model for today's youth."

Privately, the role model imagined the public's response if they knew the truth. Being chased by a mob wielding pitchforks and torches sprang to mind. So to did Speaker Karkolova's advice. "If the crowd doesn't have a villain to revenge themselves on, then let them celebrate a hero."

"Just don't let them put you up too high," the woman warned. "The fall's a bitch if they decide to knock you down."

"Thank you," he muttered in response before slipping away. Hiro made it back to the waiting area without further incidence and slid into the seat next to Professor Akashi. For his part, the good professor had a heavy book open across his lap and jotted down notes on a pad of paper.

"Did you see those girls off?" Akashi asked.

Those girls referred to the trio of mage knight cadets Hiro had met at Glad-Con: Collette, Emily and Beatrix. They had travelled from Ariadne for the convention and kickoff event for the new prize fighting season. Well Collette had come for that, he reminded himself, and dragged the other two along with her. For reasons none of them would explain, the girl with the floppy, black and white ears wasn't allowed to travel by herself.

"Yeah," Hiro tersely replied. "You still upset?"

"I'm not upset," the older man answered. "I'm thankful you saved all those lives at the stadium."

"I just wish your face wasn't popping up on every HD screen between here and Vairocana," Akashi quietly remarked as Hiro's face did just that on the overhead monitor. "And then there's that little fan club of yours. I was hoping to move about the school at Ariadne unobtrusively."

"They hardly constitute a fan club professor."

"Not yet, but wait until the school's rumor mill starts."

"Sevensheep-san seems pretty sensible," Hiro commented. "As the class president, she should be able to keep them in line."

"We'll see."

Over the public address came their announcement. "Mesembrian Skyways flight 1889, bound for Ariadne by way of Phoenix, is now boarding at gate number 12."

"If it's such a big issue, I can always skip Ariadne and go on to Granicus," Hiro offered.

"That won't be necessary," the professor replied as he stored his things. "You did an excellent job gathering information at the convention."

"We might be able to put your celebrity to use at the school," Akashi continued. "I'll concentrate on questioning the administrators and leave pumping the students to you."

"Um, professor?"

"What?"

"… I think they're about to call our section."

--

Various smells assaulted a delicate, pink nose, causing it to wrinkle in annoyance, while fox-like ears twitched underneath a khaki-colored hood. A pair of slit eyes watched the two men join the boarding gate line. Those same eyes glanced down at the ticket clenched in a furred hand. "Steerage," a voice snorted. "Figures."

--

"**The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost is used for the chapter heading.**

"**The Bhagavad Gita" is the source of the conversation between Lord Krishna and Prince Arjuna, and is considered one of the important Hindu scriptures. I am not quoting verbatim, but I believe I am presenting the essential message in that particular passage.**

**Shirasaya – an unadorned, wooden scabbard with matching hilt. Meant for long term storage of a blade. After Motoko's sword was broken, I thought she switched to a bokuto, or wooden sword, but was informed it was a shirasaya.**

**Okuiri – one entering a martial arts school using the licensing system (Menkyo) rather than the more recent belt (Dan) system.**

**Shomokuroko – level just above Okuiri. Award is considered after a minimum of four years study.**

**Heisei – current era in Japan, began with the ascension of Emperor Akihito on Jan 8, 1989.**


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: This was done faster than I expected. It's amazing what the proper motivation will do, right Hydriatus? For the rest of you, my fellow Train Stationer has been recently posting a chapter a day to 'Our Time Together' and is making me feel like a slacker. **

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. I was going to say that I posted a chapter without an OC in it, but managed to slip one in at the end. **

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells", **-telepathy-

_Just what we all need, more lies about a world that never was and never will be – __**Moody, Lee, Hodges**_

**

* * *

**

What Never was and Never Will be

Mahora, Japan

Water, cool and crystal clear, flowed around Ayaka's calves as the class rep stood in a stream. The morning sun beat down upon her and from the way the girl's neck and shoulders were feeling, skin was turning from pink to red. But she hadn't completed her task and would stand there all day if needed.

Catch a fish Kaede had told her. They hadn't packed any poles the student was quick to point out. Didn't need them her instructor replied. So Ayaka waded into the stream and was getting both chilled and burnt at the same time. What made it worse was that the stream was filled with hundreds of the little blighters. Numerous times dark shapes had swum close, only to speed away the moment she moved a muscle.

How could she be defeated so easy? How dare those fish come close enough to tempt her only to escape? They were probably laughing with all their fish friends about the stupid human standing in the water. Tears began to form as Ayaka despaired. Classmates, girls she had known for years were battling demons and evil wizards; and she couldn't even catch one measly fish.

'Is that what this is about?' the class rep asked herself. 'Do I want to be on the front line too?'

An image of her decked out in a costume like an anime heroine came to mind. A small laugh rose in the back of her throat over 'Magic Girl Ayaka, nemesis of evil-doers everywhere.' Still, during the cyberspace battle she and Makie-san had inadvertently been drawn into, the blonde-haired girl had never felt more alive. Believing it was an intense, virtual reality game, the question of where their powers came from was never asked. If magic was real, could they both have the ability to use it? The class rep shuddered in response to a wand-armed Baka Pink casting spells.

Thrusting that discomforting image away, Ayaka focused on the task at hand, yet other thoughts kept intruding. War had been declared upon Mahora and she wanted to do what was possible to help. If Konoka was correct, her family's resources were already being employed by the headmaster, so what could she contribute? When Negi-sensei asked her to warn her classmates this morning, it proved that mere physical prowess wasn't always what was needed. Sometimes it only took a willingness to follow orders and enough thought to organize efforts efficiently.

So if she didn't have to train in order to be of help, why was she subjecting herself to this frustration? Memories of how Asuna humiliated her during last summer's badge game caused cheeks to blush in response. In hindsight, being thumped hadn't hurt near as much as realizing the other girl had progressed so far ahead. Even then, it didn't seem that falling behind was what bothered her.

In truth, Ayaka had reached a point and gotten comfortable with it; unconsciously deciding further advancement was unnecessary. Competing on an even foot with Asuna may not be realistic anymore, but had her potential been reached? Being humbled by a classmate was embarrassing; however, to settle for less than what you could achieve was a greater cause for shame. Ultimately, training wasn't about Negi or Asuna or the headmaster or even Mahora. It was something the class rep needed to do for herself.

A shadow moved in the water and hands flashed into action. A brown and tan fish wriggled in her grasp. Surprised, she sat back in the stream and stared as light glistened off its scales.

--

On the bank, Kaede lay in a tree's shade and grinned at her pupil's amazed expression. Cousin Chiho would no doubt have scolded little Kaede for taking so long, but the kunoichi knew that wasn't called for now. Some things couldn't be rushed.

--

Kyoto, Japan

Skin began to feel numb from the cold of towel-wrapped ice cubes. Across the room, his son sat, holding a similar bundle to a hand print that showed vivid red against the boy's cheek. 'My son,' Nagi thought. 'He's right in front of me. Negi's grown so big that I barely recognize the child who knelt in the snow. And where did he get those scars from?'

'Say something baka,' the man mentally scolded. 'Don't just sit there like a lump.'

"Your friend has a bit of a temper."

"Anya's a little sensitive about some things," Negi replied in a guarded tone. "Perhaps it would be best if you didn't mention the size of her, um …"

"Anatomy," he suggested.

"Anatomy," the boy agreed.

"I didn't mean to insinuate she was, er lacking in that regard."

"Why are you in my father's house?" Negi suddenly asked. "And how did you get in?"

"I'm going to get something out of my pocket," Nagi warned. "So don't get jumpy."

"I came here because I don't want to explain myself to everyone who thinks they have a right to stick their nose into my business," he replied. A small, glowing crystal hung suspended from a leather thong. "I befriended your father a long time ago. This key was made by him."

"When did you meet my father?"

Nagi shifted on the couch and gazed back at his son and smiled with the borrowed face. "It was shortly before you were born."

"Would you like to hear about it?" Outwardly Negi remained calm, but he could see the boy's eyes light up with interest. "Let's see, it was the summer of '93 when Nagi Springfield heard rumors that Total World was active and rebuilding."

--

Total World had been crushed during the Great War, or so everyone wanted to believe. But that appeared to have been a vain hope. Phoenix-like it rose out of the ashes of defeat, poised to bring another long and costly conflict to the Mundus Magicus. Once more people looked to the Crimson Wing, heroes of the last war, for help.

Ten years can be a lifetime for some and a mere blink for others, but the ten years since the war's end had wrought changes. The Crimson Wing of popular image no longer existed. Of the six men who ended the war together, one was missing while another had retired and no amount of pleading could pry him from his villa. Eishun had assumed leadership of the Kansai Magic Association and was father to a four-year-old daughter. Gateau, a respected troubleshooter, travelled the Magic World with his apprentices, resolving difficulties brought about by the squabbles between nations. Albireo alone appeared unchanged, but how does one judge if an enigma is different.

Nagi Springfield, the Thousand Master, had changed too. Having experienced heartbreak in the aftermath of the war, he had sworn never to fall in love again. As an ardent 15 year old, he had uttered that oath with the utmost sincerity while those around him smiled indulgently. Earnest as he was, Nagi hadn't reckoned on Anna.

Anna was the daughter of a wealthy merchant from Ariadne, a graduate of the Meldiana School of Magic, a Mage Knight who fought in the Third Battle of Ostia and, on occasion, a member of the Crimson Wing. She had helped Nagi not to forget the past but to move on from it and captured his heart in the process. It was a newly married husband and expectant father who went to Istanbul.

And a concerned one that rushed back when he heard word enemies had sent a notorious assassin to Kyoto. After seeing to his wife and their unborn child's safety, he returned and was greeted by tragedy.

--

"Gateau dead?" Nagi asked in shock. "What? How?"

"That assassin either never meant to go to Japan or was warned off," Eishun replied. "He double-backed in New Delhi and caught us completely by surprise. I blame myself for this."

"Don't dwell on that too long," Al said. "Takamichi-kun is already beating himself up over it. The idiot seems to think that if he had mastered kanka, Gateau would still be alive."

"How's the princess?" His worry grew as the other men looked knowingly at one another. "What is it?"

"She was with Takamichi-kun at the time," Eishun answered. "They were the ones to find him. Asuna-chan watched him die."

"I need to see her."

"Before you do, there's something you should know first," Al told him. "It was Gateau's dying wish that her memories be wiped to spare her further pain."

"So how far back did you go?"

"It wasn't just erasing memories," the pony-tailed mage answered. "I put a completely different personality in place."

"You what?" Nagi shouted, as he grabbed the front of the other man's robes.

Al calmly gazed back at him, making no effort to free himself. "We spoke about this before, remember? This is the only way to bypass what was done to her and let the princess have a more normal life."

Slowly, Nagi unclenched his hand. "Take me to her."

Eishun led him to the playground where a girl with twin pony-tails was digging in the sand. Nagi knelt down and smiled at her. "Hi."

A little face, open and innocent, regarded him in return. "Hello," she replied. "Who are you?"

"I'm Nagi," he answered as a piece of him shriveled at her question. "What's your name?"

"Asuna."

"Asuna huh?" he remarked. Desperately Nagi searched for some sign of the girl he had known, but found only a stranger. "That's a beautiful name."

They spoke a little while longer and then he left her to continue her play. "What happens to her and Takamichi now?" he asked Eishun.

"My father-in-law has offered Asuna-chan a spot free of charge at his school," the swordsman responded. "Takamichi-kun will take her to Japan and remain as her guardian."

"How are they going to live?" he wondered aloud.

"Gateau-san left everything to those two," Eishun answered. "He wasn't rich but it should be enough to see them through."

Nagi glanced again at the girl building castles out of sand. Thoughts of his own son, not yet born, rose within him. 'I need to be there for Negi and I will be,' he silently swore. 'But I won't let this go unavenged.'

"Do we know where this assassin is yet?" he asked.

"No, but we're working on it."

"When we find him, he's mine."

"No Nagi," Eishun replied, his face a grim mask. "We all want a piece of that son of a bitch."

--

Any society will spawn both the best and worst in its members. Among the less savory groups in the Mundus Magicus is the "Sicae Umbra Celare", hired killers who specialize in shadow magic. Garbed in black robes with faces hidden behind white masks, normal people gave wide berth whenever they appeared. Kagetarou of Bosporros was one with the worst of reputations.

"Wait a minute," Negi interrupted. "I fought him."

Nagi stopped his narration and stared at the boy. "I heard about your battle," he commented. "But I would be surprised if it was the same person. Originally those murders slapped 'kage' in front of their names as a mark of distinction. In time, it became customary for apprentices to adopt their master's name. "

"I believe the Kagetarou your father faced is dead," he continued. "But it's likely you fought his successor."

"Now do you want me to continue?" Nagi asked and waited for an affirmative nod. "I have no idea how your Father and his friends located one man in a city of millions, but they did. Ala Rubra caught up to the assassin in the Istanbul Gateport one August evening."

--

Ribbons of shadow, sharper than finely honed steel, flowed out from the shadowmancer's hands. Nagi dodged falling stone as his opponent sliced through a nearby marble column as easily as if made of butter. Closer the three Crimson Wing members drew to the cornered mage. Perched upon a balcony, the assassin stood with dark bands waving about him like long stalks of grass rippling in the breeze.

- Now Eishun! - Nagi sent and then began an incantation.

Nodachi held before him, the swordsman jumped forward, acting as a lightning rod. Black streamers wildly thrashed only to shatter against the ki-ampliphied blade. A sudden flare of light filled the chamber as burst of lightning missiles from a Sagitta Magica struck Kagetarou, swiftly followed by "**Kenotetos astrapsato de temeto! Dios Tukos****!**"

"**Kratiste Aegis!**" a new voice cried and the lightning axe deflected off a summoned magic circle.

"**Unus Fulgor Concidens Noctem, in Mea Manu Ens Inimicum Edat! ****Fulguratio Albicans!**" intoned the same voice. In response, a bolt of energy lanced into Nagi's stomach, driving him into the floor. Barriers instantly strengthened as he was forced backwards, gouging a ridged groove in polished stone tiles.

A familiar, dimpled face, crowned by a mop of white hair, appeared above the balcony railing. Nagi's eyes opened wide in disbelief as he recognized his former ally. "Kozimos?" he yelled. "What are you doing?"

"That should be obvious, even for you," the newcomer answered in a cheerful voice.

"But let me make it clear, and I'll use small words," Kozimos continued as thirty lightning spears shimmered into existence and then launched forward. "I switched sides."

Nagi scrambled out of the way just before the spears detonated. Their roar masked the sound of Al's spell and a globe of swirling energy struck the balcony, pulverizing it into fragments. The white-haired wizard floated above the ruined balcony and clapped hands together with pleasure. "And Imma's here too."

Thunder exploded about the chamber as dozens of spears impacted causing Nagi and his friends to scatter. Return spells glanced off magic shields encircling their foe, and added to the gateport's devastation. During the melee, Eishun's shundo put him directly beneath the newcomer.

"**Messatsu Zanku Zanmasen.**" Ki barreled upward from Yunagi, avoiding the wizard's defenses, and struck their opponent. Upwards their enemy was propelled but a quick incantation blew a hole in the ceiling and Kozimos passed out of view.

Chunks of marble shifted in a pile of rubble as the shadowmancer dug his way out. "I'll handle this one," the swordsman grimly said as he faced their original quarry. "You two deal with Anankaios-san."

With that Nagi and Albireo leapt through the hole in pursuit. Air rushed past the mages as they chased after their onetime friend and companion. Downward the still youthful seeming wizard fled, through one of the tunnels leading to the transfer platform.

That Kagetarou had been bait for this trap was perfectly obvious to Nagi; he wondered what threat would confront them next as well as what had changed Kozimos. During the war, the white-haired boy had been an adamant foe of Total World, even to the point of sacrificing himself to ensure their defeat. It was almost as if Nagi faced an entirely different person.

Ears caught the unmistakable hum of gathering magic. Ahead, a glow surrounded the great portal stone. Energy surged and the air above its tip ripped asunder; an alien landscape lay beyond. Through the gapping rift, their enemy escaped.

"Nagi wait!" Albireo called.

"There's no time."

"There is for this," the mage replied. "**Adeat!**"

Tome upon tome of books circled about the robed figure, whirling about like a double helix. He snatched one of the volumes and pulled its bookmark out. Suddenly Nagi was looking at himself. "Just to be safe," Al remarked and then flew towards the waiting portal.

Unlike a normal transfer, creating a direct connection between the worlds required an enormous amount of energy but sidestepped the disorientation of crossing the void. Instantly, Nagi recognized the gateport at Granicus. But where was Kozimos?

"**Flamma Abyssus , meus hostilis voro. Rogus forem exuro. Eternus Torqueo!**"

Flames engulfed the false Nagi who screamed in agony. Rage as hot as the spell's fire burned in Nagi's chest as he saw the smile on his enemy's face, a smile erased as his fist smashed into it. He felt pain as bones fractured but paid it no heed as he struck that damnable face again and again. Fueled by anger, Nagi moved faster, hit harder than he could ever remember. Near the chamber's ceiling, he grabbed Kozimos' throat and plunged downward, diving straight into the portal stone. Upon impact, the top third of the stone disintegrated, releasing its magic explosively.

Nagi choked on a cloud of dust. Al had been hit by a powerful curse of some kind, but he needed to ensure the other mage was down for good. Up head, the figure clad in a blood-soaked robe lay across a pile of rubble. Realizing the enemy was still breathing, he gathered power for a finishing strike.

"Still alive there Nagi?" his foe coughed. "I think that last one did it."

"Why Kozimos? Why did you do it?"

"I doubt a simple mind as yours will understand, but I was trying to correct our mistake," the white-haired mage answered. "We may not approve of their means but Total World's aims were right."

"Our world needs a strong hand to guide it," he wheezed, "to save us from ourselves."

"I don't buy that for a minute."

"No, you wouldn't," the dying mage replied. "In my pocket is something you should have. I'm sorry it turned out this way … I really am._"_

Nagi watched his former friend's eyes roll up in his skull and chest stop moving. In the pocket he found a Crimson Wing badge, the one he left for his unborn son. All at once, his life came crashing down and the man called the Thousand Master felt a complete and utter failure.

--

"No!" Negi was on his feet. Knuckles were turning white so tightly were the boy's fists clenched. "My father wasn't a failure!"

'Oh yes I was,' Nagi wanted to argue, but wisely refrained from comment.

"Look at it from your father's eyes Springfield-san," he said aloud. "Nearly everyone he cared about was dead or gravely injured, or so he thought. How could he feel otherwise with what he knew?"

"I suppose you're right," the boy finally admitted. "So is this where you and my father met?"

"Yes. You might recall that the majority of healers in Granicus are attached to the arena," Nagi responded. "Dawn was just breaking when I received a frantic call."

--

No matter how long he stared at the Chirurgicum door, nothing changed. Healers versed in every sort of injury and ailment that beset prize fighters were no doubt stymied by the curse laid upon Albireo. His friend's flesh had burst into flames that brought pain but consumed nothing, leaving the body whole and in constant agony. Far more diabolic than petrifaction, it truly deserved the name eternal torment.

Hearing a click, he looked up to see a tall, bearded man cautiously approach. Caked with dust and clothing in tatters, Nagi guessed he must have presented a sight anything but heroic. "My name is Joseph Dolnegus," the stranger said. "I own the arena."

He nodded in acknowledgement.

Dolnegus paused as if carefully considering his next words. "May I speak with you privately?"

Minutes later the two stood before a tank filled with a jelly-like material. In the center rested a body so badly burned as to be unrecognizable. Skin was mass of scar tissue, white and hairless. "What did you do to him?"

"My healers can't lift the curse Springfield-san," the bearded man answered. "The best they were able to do was to put him into a deep sleep. Your friend is packed in a substance that smoothers flames, but they'll start again the second he's removed."

Speechlessly he gazed at the tank as Dolnegus continued to explain. "This is only a temporary solution. The chief healer recommends putting him in stasis until a counter spell can be found."

"Can they also place his soul into a separate container?"

"I suppose so," Dolnegus answered. "But that is an expensive procedure."

"I can't pay you at this moment," Nagi said, "but if you can front the funds, I'll see you are reimbursed in full."

"I'd willingly help the hero of Ostia," the man replied. "But my money is tied up in the current prize fighting season and will be until after the uh, Nagi Springfield Cup is over."

"How much does it cost to enter a new team?"

"Well it … wait a moment. Just what do you have in mind?"

A smile creased Nagi's face. "What if I can guarantee your team wins it all?"

"No good," Dolnegus replied, shaking his head as he realized where Nagi was headed. "The prize money won't cover the expense."

"A friend of mine once explained that prize money is nothing compared to what's won in betting on outcomes."

"This is ridiculous. Who would bet against you?"

"Teams have gone incognito before," he pointed out to the reluctant owner. "First we need to put it out that Nagi Springfield died this morning in Granicus."

"That will be difficult to do without producing a …," Dolnegus started and then paused. Eyes travelled to the tank. "A body?"

"I think Al will forgive me this once."

--

A few days later, lost amidst the public mourning for the man known as the Thousand Master, a recent addition to the Granicus Fortes team made its debut in the Minerva Cup. Named the "Lightning Axe" team in honor of the departed Springfield-san, the masked duo won a string of hard-fought battles, staging not a few come from behind victories

"Who fought with my father?" Negi asked. "Was it Rakan-san?"

"I doubt there are enough drachmas anywhere to lure Jacobius Rakan back into the arena," Nagi answered. "No, the other person was just good enough to hold his own and had a vested interest in keeping his mouth shut."

"You mean?"

"I'm a veteran of the Great War too young man," he responded. "I even learned the Lightning Axe spell so your father's use of it wouldn't be all that remarkable."

"That would explain a few things," Asuna remarked from the stairwell door.

"How's Anya?" Negi asked as he gingerly touched the fading hand print.

"She's calmer," Asuna answered. "I came down to check if her clothes are ready for the dryer."

"We've been catching up on the past few days," the teen continued. "It sounds as if you two have had an eventful time."

Nagi stared at the bell-wearing girl. Though his face maintained a neutral expression, he realized how thin the ice beneath him was if Asuna started asking questions. Desperately he wondered how to steer the conversation away from such dangerous ground when Negi let him off the hook.

"Dolnegus-san was telling me about how he met my father," the boy told her. "Would you like to listen?"

A smile appeared as she gazed down at his son. For a moment, the man saw another princess from another time who once smiled at him in the same way. In his ignorance, Nagi had misread its intent and paid a heavy price for being an idiot. He hoped Negi would learn the difference before the boy made a similar mistake.

"Maybe latter," Asuna replied. "I need to see about Anya-san's clothes."

Eagerly Negi turned his attention back to him. "So what happened next?"

"Next? Oh yes, next."

--

Lightning Axe had won 15 matches to reach the Minerva Cup finals. They had easily qualified for the Nagi Cup and this last battle would be a formality except for who they faced. The human mage/cat-girl warrior team had been left homeless after the calamity that befell Ostia. Rather than live a refugees, the pair had agreed to be enslaved and fight for their freedom in the arena. A contract that remained in force even after the Hellas Empire formally outlawed using slaves as gladiators.

"Have you seen the odds this morning?" Nagi asked.

"Yes," Dolnegus replied sourly. "We've been too successful it seems."

"Quite a few of our future competitors will be watching today's match won't they?"

"I suppose."

Costumes firmly secured, Nagi and his teammate marched up the tunnel to the main arena. "I wonder how it would affect things if we lost," Nagi commented.

The other masked figure stopped and glared through eye slits in response. "You're not suggesting we throw the match are you?"

"I guess I am at that," he replied.

"Not a chance," Dolnegus said. "Those two are fighting for their freedom, and I respect that too much to cheapen their accomplishment."

"Who would have thought," Nagi laughed, "that beneath the gruff exterior beats a sentimental heart?"

"Repeat that and I'll haul you before a magistrate for slander."

A large crowd packed the stadium to watch the cup championship. The match progressed normally with Nagi and Dolnegus positioning themselves to deliver the team's signature double lightning strike when a slight miscalculation was made. Although the cat-girl hadn't displayed the capability before, she executed a shundo to move within striking range of Dolnegus. Nagi released his spell and watched as the flash enveloped both prize fighters. Momentarily stunned, he was an easy target for a Sagitta Magica barrage.

Back in their dressing room, his partner raged at him. "You did that on purpose," the man accused.

"It was accidental," Nagi maintained. "Now hold still or I won't be able to restore your eyebrows."

"I find it hard to believe you could make a mistake like that."

"That's a drawback to having a reputation like mine," he replied. "People tend to forget that you're only human. It's hell when they expect you to be perfect every minute of the day."

Moments later the spell was complete. "Why the rush Chairman?" Nagi asked. "You could have congratulated the victors after seeing a healer."

"Now that they're free, I wanted to offer them jobs before somebody else snatched them up," the businessman responded. "Vargas-san may not look like it …"

--

"Vargas-san!" Negi nearly shouted. "You mean he really did beat my father?"

"Yes although the story has changed quite a bit over the years," Nagi chuckled.

"You said your hired both," the boy remarked. "Who was Vargas-san's partner?"

"My chief of staff of course."

"What? Mama-san?"

"Everyone thinks of Mama-san as an overgrown teddy bear," he said, "but she survived her home's destruction and won her freedom after ten years of fighting in the arena."

"So what happened after that Dolnegus-san?"

"After our loss, the odds makers gave us a ridiculously low chance to win," Nagi answered. "We did win of course and your own experiences last year should tell you what that was like."

"Your father had been through hell for more than a month," he continued. "And though he had done everything in his power, I know he felt like a failure."

"He had taken his friend Imma-san to the Mundus Vertus long before word reached me that your mother had survived long enough to give birth to you." At that, he fell silent for moment. "You can only imagine how that news must have struck him."

"I don't know why he stayed away, maybe Nagi-san though it would be too dangerous if people knew he was still alive," he continued. "But whatever his reasons, I'm sure he had your best interest at heart."

The boy sat on his chair and digested the tale. Fear of Negi's reaction gnawed away at his insides as he silently waited, mentally berating himself for a coward.

"Thank you Dolnegus-san," Negi finally said as the youngster started to grin. "Thank you for telling me about my father."

--

Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus

Another day had come and gone and Koyomi was no closer to the promised end. Having failed at Ostia, the cat-girl had escaped with her minister and the other ministra, but found themselves hunted by their former employers as well as the authorities. Master Fate had found protection for them with the Cabal, but their demands to assure his fealty made her wonder if it was worth it. Her co-ministra and friend was a hostage for their obedience, but the dragon-girl was luckier than Shiori; unlike the elf, Tamaki still had her body.

Assigned to infiltrate the Council of Mages, she had been placed as the secretary for the chairman of the External Affairs Committee. Koyomi found it funny, in an ironic way, that she labored daily under the nose of the man who expended the greatest effort in tracking them all down. Despite the amusement, the tension of being unmasked at any moment was wearing away at her.

Three paces from the front door crossed the main room and brought her into the kitchen. Apartments advertised as "cozy" meant cramped the girl found to her disgust. Another rude shock awaited her as she checked the cupboards and found them as bare as in the children's rhyme. As if to add to her level of frustration, a knock came on the door. "What now?"

Quickly she chanted the beginnings of a disarm spell and opened the door a crack. "Who is it?"

"My name is legion," a voice replied. "We are many."

Without hesitation, Koyomi opened the door and admitted her visitor. A human male ducked under the lintel and entered the room. He was tall, taller than even that bastard Rakan though not anywhere near as muscular; the top of her head barely come to the bottom of his chest. His dark hair was styled into several spikes that splayed forward. "Ikoma-sama," she said while bowing in greeting. "How may I help you?"

"That is Councilor Ikoma," he said. "You would do well to remember that."

"Of course sir."

Though in his early thirties, the man easily looked ten years younger. As such, other councilors tended to ignore the "youngster." "We are ready to move," he said. "I need to be put on Mifune-san's calendar for tomorrow, about 10 o'clock."

Under his arm was an oblong box like one would pack a bouquet of roses in. It gave off a muffled rattle as he shifted it. "I'll make the necessary arrangements," she replied. "Will there be anything else Councilor?"

"There's no need to be so distant," Ikoma replied as his free reached out and gently stroked the side of her face. "Have I mentioned how very pretty you are?"

Quickly, the girl slapped his hand away. "That isn't part of our agreement."

Lips twisted into a smirk as he regarded her. Hackles rose on the back of the cat-girl's neck, brought on by her mounting ire. "Why waste your venom on me?" Ikoma asked. "I didn't put you in this situation."

An expectant look, as if the man was waiting for her next retort, made Koyomi bite her tongue and keep silent. Disappointed, he held out the mysterious package. "This is for you."

Seeing her expression of disdain, he continued, "You'll want to see this."

Cautiously, Koyomi took the cardboard box and untied its bright red bow.

"Your master failed today," Ikoma told her as she lifted the lid and gasped. "And you know the price for failure."

Inside the box, among the padding, lay a horn about the length of the girl's arm from elbow to wrist. Blood from the stub stained the wadded paper. "I wonder how Tamaki-chan keeps her balance," he chuckled.

Koyomi started to shake from anger. "You … you bastards."

Continuing on as if he hadn't heard her, the councilor wondered aloud how the girl's people would treat a one-horned dragon. "Probably consider her an abomination, a walking freak show."

"Stop it!" she shrieked as anger blazed in her eyes. "Stop it or I'll …"

"Or you'll what?"

Words died unspoken as Koyomi realized her tormentor was intentionally goading her. "Nothing!" the girl hurriedly replied, casting her eyes on the floor. "I won't do anything except set up the appointment for you."

"That's better Koyomi-chan," he replied in a mocking tone. "I'll see you tomorrow morning then."

Pulling open the door, he suggested she wear a shorter skirt on the morrow. "Something that shows more thigh." With that, he ducked out of the apartment, whistling a jaunty tune.

As the door clicked shut, a sob erupted from Koyomi's throat. Tears ran down both cheeks and splashed onto the horn.

--

**A/N: Okay, just to make sure we are clear on this point, in this story Kozimos Anankaios is the name I devised for the little boy who was the final member of the Crimson Wing. While I am willing to change some things to match the manga (like Anya being in the MW when she started out not having seen Negi in 18 months) this is too important to my plot to mess with.**

**Chapter heading and title are from the song "Everybody's Fool" by Evanescence.**

**More words and phrases:**

**Messatsu Zanku**** Zanmasen – annihilation air and evil-cutting flash**

**Sicae Umbra Celare ****–****dagger concealed in shadow**

**Kratiste Aegis - don't have a translation for Kratiste but the Aegis is a shield used by Zeus in his battles with the Olympians' foes.**** The spell appears in chapter 232 of the manga.**

**Flamma Abyssus , meus hostilis voro. Rogus forem exuro. Eternus Torqueo****– ****Flames of Hell, swallow my enemy. Funeral pyre burn forever. Eternal torment! (my thanks to Makuhari_Fan01 for the latin translation)**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: And so the final chapter of the year is finished. Now that events in Kyoto are winding down, it's time to see what characters are up to elsewhere. My thanks to those who read, reviewed and suggested. And Makuhari_Fan01, it's dangerous to make off hand remarks. You never know where they might lead.**

**As a reminder, Evangeline is disguised as the new middle school teacher, Ishikawa-sensei, and her maid is the demon that was caught invading Negi's dream back in 'Markham Chronicles Negima.'**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters (as if that would ever change). Hiro, Mihai, Himeiko/Lili, and Juntz Federson are products of my imagination.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells", '**_reading_**'**

**The Risk to Blossom**

_**And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to **_**blossom **_–__Anais Nin_

--

Teacher's Dormitory, Mahora Japan

A shiny brass plate was affixed to the door. Madoka read the neatly engraved words '_Room 303, Ishikawa_.' For the thirty-seventh time she raised a hand to knock and for the same number of times let it drop to her side. After having embarrassed Markham-sensei in front of the new teacher, the teen had come to explain what had happened but couldn't seem to take that final step and confront the woman. Nor could she walk away.

'I feel like such an idiot,' the girl thought. 'Why is this so difficult?'

Madoka had prided herself on being more sensible than her classmates, but thoughts of her homeroom teacher left her flustered. Considering the maturity level of the boys her age, it wasn't surprising that she preferred sensei's company, especially since they shared an interest in music. However, that didn't explain why his arms around her felt so good. The teen wished the events on the school trip was the reason for it, but it had been that way since the first day they met. An unexpected lurch on the morning train had landed her against the man, and he had grabbed hold to keep her from falling as another shudder knocked other passengers off their feet.

'You're being foolish,' she reminded herself. 'Markham-sensei only thinks of you as a friend.' He had said so underneath the World Tree just a few days ago. Just before that stupid bird started squawking. Memories of her cheek held tightly against the man's chest, a gentle hand stroking her hair and comforting words softly spoken filled her head. "It's alright," he had told her.

Straightening her shoulders, Madoka raised her hand and rapped three times on the door. Scarcely daring to breath, she heard the rattle of the knob and then it opened to reveal a girl only three or four years older than herself. A white cap rested atop the stranger's brown hair and a maid's uniform covered her ample curves.

"May I help you?"

"Is Ishikawa-sensei in?"

"Please come in," the maid said while opening the door further.

Seeing mats on the floor, Madoka removed her shoes before stepping inside. "You have a visitor mistress," the maid announced.

Lowering a tea cup, the dark-haired woman she had met in Markham's room glanced up at her. Madoka thought she noticed a disapproving expression, but it was gone so quickly that the student couldn't be sure. "Good morning Ishikawa-sensei."

"Its Kugimiya-san isn't it?" the teacher asked as she pushed a pair of glasses up the bridge of her nose. After Madoka's nod, Ishikawa continued, "What is it?"

"I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding the other day."

Lips pursed tight together as the woman regarded her. In response, butterflies fluttered about her stomach like the tiny mushrooms dancing to the Nutcracker. "Himeiko," sensei called out, causing the other girl to stiffen. "Bring me some paper and a pen."

After scribbling something down, the woman handed a sheet to her servant and told her, "Two hours. No more than that."

Taking the paper, the girl named Himeiko curtsied. "Yes mistress, I understand. Two hours." The door slammed shut as the maid wasted no time in departing.

Madoka could feel the woman's eyes rove over her, examining the girl as if debating whether to place her in a shopping cart or return her to the shelf. "You have nothing to apologize for," Ishikawa finally said. "I was the one who jumped to conclusions."

"I should have known nothing improper was going on," the teacher continued. "After all Markham-san's a mature man and well …"

A spark of anger at the implied comment caused the teen to twitch in response.

"More importantly, why are you here?"

"As I said," she confusedly answered. "I came here to apologize."

"No, I meant why are you still at Mahora?" Ishikawa asked. "Why didn't you leave when the headmaster gave you the chance?"

Madoka stared back, unsure how to respond. Back when the headmaster had given everyone the choice to stay or not, leaving Mahora had never entered her mind.

"Didn't give it a thought did you?" the woman scornfully asked. "Just followed everyone else like sheep herded to market?"

She wanted to deny it, to shout back "You're wrong!" but the more Madoka thought about it, the more she realized Ishikawa-sensei was right.

"It's not too late you know? You can still decide to go."

"No!"

"Stubborn baka!" The derisive tone hit her like a slap across her face. "What good can you do here?"

"I don't know! But I'm not going to desert my fiends!"

"Are your friends worth your life?" Though Ishikawa's expression seemed to soften a bit, the woman's voice remained stern. "Because if they are, you need to stop being dead weight and start learning how to protect yourself and them."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't the headmaster say that each of you had a talent?" At Madoka's nod, the teacher continued, "Then doesn't it follow that each of you needs to discover what that talent is and how to use it?"

"But how do I do that?"

The older woman smiled and Madoka suddenly felt like a mouse caught with the cheese in her hands. "I'm so very glad you asked."

--

"**Practi bigi nar ardescat**," the girl chanted again. Madoka's voice was growing horse and her eyes were crossing from the strain of staring at the star-tipped wand. "**Practi bigi nar ardescat**."

"Take a break Kugimiya-san," the dark-haired woman said.

Madoka set the wand down and rubbed at weary eyes. "Maybe I'm just not cut out for this sensei."

"It takes a great deal of time and effort to master even the simplest of spells," the teacher replied as she glanced down at her watch. "More than 40 minutes at least."

Before either could speak further, there was a knock on the door. As the woman opened it, Madoka heard a cheerful "Good morning Ishikawa-sensei."

"Sasaki-san?" she exclaimed as her classmate bounded into the room. Normally energetic, the little gymnast seemed barely able to contain her excitement, bouncing about like a hyperactive chipmunk on a sugar rush.

"Kugimi," Makie responded in surprise. "Are you taking lessons too?"

"Lessons? What do you mean lessons?" she asked. "And don't call me Kugimi."

"Enough chatter you two," Ishikawa cut in, causing both girls to quiet.

"Sasaki-san is learning how to cast spells," the teacher explained. "Show Kugimiya-san the spell for producing a flame."

A pleased expression crossed her classmate's face as she produced her own wand and brandished it forth. After Makie cleared her throat, she began the incantation Madoka had been attempting. "**Practi bigi nar ardescat**."

A tiny flame instantly sprang forth and hovered above the wand's tip. Fascinated, Madoka gazed at the magical fire. Suddenly, it flared larger, drawing a fearful "Eep!" from its summoner.

Makie dropped her wand, extinguishing the flame, and let it clattered on the floor. "That's never happened before."

--

Mahora, Japan

"So what exactly is one supposed to do on a holiday?" the white-haired boy asked.

Kotaro paused and scratched his head in thought. As a mercenary, he was too busy scrabbling hard for a living to worry about holidays, while last year was spent either fighting Negi and the boy's students or as a prisoner of the Kansai Magic Association.

"Uh, you hang out with your friends and do stuff."

"Stuff?" Mihai asked. "Like what?"

Mihai Dragomir, Mahora Elementary School's newest student, wasn't Kotaro's first choice to spend Golden Week with, but it seemed everybody else had plans. Negi and three of his partners were off in Kyoto. Kaede was working on some super, secret project while Sakura-san and Goodman-san were tied up with club activities. Even chibi-Yue, old forehead of doom, was too busy. So when Takahata-san suggested he show the other boy around, he didn't have any reason to refuse.

Of course, it didn't help that the kid looked like Fate Averruncus' little brother. Even when they were both working for Amagasaki-san, he disliked the coolly distant mage. Though Kotaro had to respect the boy's capabilities; Fate was an arrogant jerk, but he could fight. Privately, he wondered how good Mihai would be in a scrap. 'Naw, forget it,' he told himself. 'The guy looks pretty clueless; about as thick as a brick.'

"Play video games at the arcade, maybe watch a martial arts tournament," he answered. "Even kick around a soccer ball."

In response, the white-haired boy pointed at a group playing on the soccer pitch. "You mean like that?"

Before Kotaro could answer, a blonde-haired girl ran up to them. "Hello Mihai-kun," she called. "Who's your friend?"

"Hello Yuki-kun, this is Kotaro-kun," the boy replied. Turning to Kotaro he explained that the girl was in his class.

The newcomer stared at Kotaro. "What?" he asked. "Do I have a smudge on my face or something?"

"Sorry, but I've never met a celebrity before."

"Celebrity?"

"Sure, they're still talking about your first day in school," Yuki replied and then turned to her classmate. "Would you believe he beat up thirty of the worst bullies on his first day?"

"Thirty? That's quite a lot isn't it?"

"It wasn't that many," he protested. "That's an ex-a-ger-a-tion."

As the new kid in the pack, er class, Kotaro had to establish his dominance right off the bat. His intention was to only rough up a couple, but as soon as one went down another popped out of the woodwork.

"No it's not," the girl replied. "I'm the class health and safety rep and they made us sit through a really long meeting about it."

"Hey Yuki-kun," one of the players shouted. "Do they want to play?"

"How about it?" she asked. "If you two join we can make teams."

Before either could answer, they heard another shout, "Give it back!"

A group of boys from the middle school had grabbed the football and were busy tossing it back and forth in a game of keep away. Glaring at the older students, Kotaro felt the short hairs on his neck rise and a low growl start in the back of his throat. Moving so fast as to seemingly appear from nowhere, he intercepted a pass.

"What the …"

"Where'd he come from?"

"Sorry I'm late guys," he replied grinning widely.

"What do you think you're doing?" the biggest middle school student asked.

"I'm here to play soccer. You wanna make something of it?"

"What if I do?" came the belligerent reply.

Both had their chests puffed out as a quiet voice interposed itself, "So what are the teams?"

As one the pair turned to the little, white-haired boy with the mildly curious expression. "If everybody wants to play, shouldn't we choose up sides?"

The middle school boy looked on in disgust. "We got better things to do then play with a bunch of losers."

"Sure," Kotaro added. "Besides their reputation would be flushed down the drain if they got beat by elementary students."

"Don't make me laugh," the boy replied. "We're not afraid of losing to children like you."

"I didn't say you were afraid," he quickly replied. "You're showing good sense and walking away from a humiliating drubbing."

"Pretty big talk for a little kid."

"Yeah. But I can back mine up."

--

Students engaged in the never-ending struggle with school work thronged the parks and athletic fields around Mahora. Content to let Sunday remain a day of rest, most felt that a free Friday was criminal to waste sleeping in. Shouts of joy and laughter in the company of friends sounded all around the soccer pitch, but the players caught up in the impromptu grudge match battled in deadly earnest.

Kotaro deftly moved the ball up the field. He had egged the middle school boys into the game and now was faced with how to win without spilling the magic beans. While nothing would give him more satisfaction that to beat those showoffs, spending a few years as an ermine was too high a price to pay for it. Noticing that Mihai had an open shot, he passed the ball only to have one of their opponents swoop in and steal it.

One of the defenders, a dark-haired boy named Haruki, rushed to intercept however his larger opponent slammed into him at full speed and knocked the elementary student sprawling. The little blonde-haired girl waited in the goal box as the charging player took a shot. Hands moved too slowly as the ball struck the goalie a glancing blow to the face and bounced back. A second kick and the middle school team had a quick 1 – 0 lead.

Kotaro gathered his teammates around. One side of the little girl's face was red from the impact. He had thought being in the box would offer some protection for her, but obviously that wasn't the case. "Okay Yuki-chan you take a breather."

"No," she protested. "I want to stay in."

Seeing the puffiness of her cheek, Kotaro was going to argue but something in the set of her chin reminded the boy of Chizuru when she had her mind made up. When that happened, nothing he wanted really mattered. "Okay then, Haruki-kun, I want you at forward with me," he said to the boy that had been bowled over. "You change with Mihai-kun."

"Got it."

Looking at the white-haired boy, he said "That big guy doesn't score again. Understand."

Although his expression remained unchanged, Mihai nodded once in agreement. Advancing the ball past mid-field, Kotaro intentionally passed the ball and had it intercepted. As the opposing attacker raced down the field again, the new defended moved to block.

Kotaro' senses tingled from a subtle flow of magic, bringing a wolf-like grin to his face. His teammate calmly stood in place as the forward attempted to run him over. Only this time, it was the older boy who kissed the turf while Mihai cleared the ball past the center line. A defender rushed towards the ball but Haruki got there first and with a sliding kick knocked it towards the hanyo, whose shot went just beyond the goal keeper's outstretched hands.

Ten minutes later, with their team down 5 to 1, the middle school students scrambled across the field as the "little kids" passed the ball around in an elaborate game of keep away. The score could have been worse, but after the opposing captain took the goalie's position, Kotaro found it more enjoyable to bounce shots off of him instead of scoring. As people on the sidelines began counting down the seconds left, he passed the ball to Mihai. "Shoot!" he shouted to his teammate.

Exploding like a rocket, the ball sailed into the goalie who wrapped his arms about it. The boy's look of exultation turned to shock when he realized the ball was still moving, and he with it. Kotaro couldn't keep the smirk off his face as he watched the goalie land behind the back of the box.

"Three! Two! One!" chanted the crowd. "Game!"

Mobbed by his schoolmates, Kotaro let himself bask in victory. But fate cruelly snatched the moment away as he noticed Chizuru at the far end of the field. Numbness stole over the youngster as she walked away, arm-in-arm, with another boy.

--

Stealthily, the boy in the black uniform had trailed the couple from the park and down city streets. The sick feeling of fear alternated with a desire to tear the other guy apart. Kotaro wanted to believe Chizuru was being forced somehow, but the way she was acting with her companion made that difficult. Hands cupped her face as the high school boy leaned forward, and their lips mashed together. That simple act left him feeling both outraged and disgusted.

"So what do you call what they're doing?" a voice behind him asked.

"Not now," he sharply replied to the white-haired boy. Pain waxed stronger as Kotaro continued to watch the drawn-out kiss. As his breakfast began to rise, the youngster became aware of a burning sensation in the back of his throat. The couple broke their kiss and walked up the steps into a building as he battled to keep from being ill.

"What's a love hotel?" Mihai suddenly asked.

"What do you mean 'love hotel'?"

In response, the boy pointed to a garish pink sign adorned with little hearts that hung above the entrance the couple had just walked into. Kotaro had heard that some of the high school and college-aged boys used them when they 'entertained' their girlfriends. Though he didn't know what sort of entertainment went on, the sixth year student was sure they weren't playing Smash Brothers on a video console. "I think I'm gonna puke," the youngster muttered as he turned away.

Silently, with downcast eyes, he shambled along the busy streets. Kotaro felt Mihai's following behind, but his insides ached too much to tell the kid to get lost. In a way, his white-haired shadow's presence was reassuring. The hanyo didn't feel like talking, however he didn't want to be completely alone either.

They had been aimlessly walking for some time when Mihai piped up, "Isn't that the girl you were just following?"

"Huh?" he gasped as eyes followed where the other boy pointed. Seated in front of the Star Books, sipping from green and white paper cups, were Chizuru and Natsumi. Instead of the short skirt and halter top, the taller girl was dressed in jeans and long-sleeved tee-shirt. Natsumi spotted him and both girls waved him over. "What's going on around here?"

--

Military Club Compound, Mahora Japan

Yuna warily eyed her enemies. Two poles sheathed in matching blue vinyl covers stood on the opposite side of the training room. Thrusting upwards like twin spear points, they were the source of a number of bruises and bouts of ego deflation these past few days. Her coach has set them as her first challenge, implacable foes to be overcome. Muscle she hadn't even known existed tensed in anticipation of Mana's signal.

A quick glance in Zazie's direction showed the corners of the acrobats mouth slightly lifted. It didn't look like much of a smile but it sufficed for encouragement. 'I need to show how grateful I am for her help,' the girl though. 'Maybe Zazie-san would like to watch some movies with us.' Focusing again on her challenge, Yuna replayed each step in her mind until she heard Mana's simple "Go."

She charged forward, the mock pistol tightly clenched in her hand, and leapt. Vinyl covered foam gave way as the ball of her foot struck. Knee flexed and straightened, propelling her upward and to the right, then left, then right again. Before she knew it, Yuna crouched at the top, gun at the ready and heart pounding wildly in her chest.

"How's that?" she asked, a slight tinge of bravado in her voice. Her coach had set a task and she had conquered it. The student wanted to crow in triumph.

"Not bad," Mana opined. "Now for your next exercise …"

"Not bad," Yuna repeated, her face clouded by puzzlement. "What do you mean not bad?"

"You accomplished a task I knew you were capable of," the mercenary replied. Her dark-haired classmate's cold and calculating expression reminded Yuna of coaches that demanded nothing less than all their players had to give. "If you expect a celebration for that, perhaps you need to find instruction elsewhere."

Shoulders slumped down in dejection. "No," she said.

"Rest assured that if I praise you Akashi-san," Mana remarked with the barest trace of a smile, "it will be because you exceeded my expectations."

"Now our next stop is the armory," her instructor said. "We'll sign out your revolver and practice at the range."

With renewed eagerness, Yuna followed the taller girl into the weapons room only to stop in her tracks. "Aaahhh," she cried in joyful recognition. The other girls stared at her as she gushed, "It's beautiful."

"That's a Machine Rifle 42 isn't it?" She pointed at the World War II era machine gun. The 1.2 meter long barrel was help up by a tripod while the wooden stock rested on a pad. Turning to a confused Zazie, the girl nearly squealed in excitement, "It struck so much fear in the allied armies that they had special training classes on what to do if infantry units faced it in the field."

"Please let me touch it!" she pleaded with Mana. "Just once in my life! Please, please, pretty please!"

"We don't have time for your fetish Akashi-san."

"But …"

"But nothing," Mana said sternly. "If you want to train get your things, otherwise we're finished."

Wordlessly, Yuna gazed the machinegun one final time and then walked over to the pistol racks. Meanwhile Zazie gave the mercenary a questioning look. "She needs better control of that impulsive nature," Mana softly answered. "When she has that, then we can indulge it every once in awhile."

--

After training was through for the day and everything returned to its place, Yuna and Zazie walked back to the train that would take them back to the dorms. "I don't understand why Tatsumiya-san wouldn't let me touch it," the brown-haired girl grumbled to her silent companion. "It's not like it would hurt her any."

"And I don't have a fetish," she continued complaining. "Whatever that is."

Zazie stopped and turned to the side. Yuna followed the other girl's gaze to find their classmate Misa a few paces away. "There you two are," the cheerleader declared in an exasperated tone.

"What's up?" Yuna asked.

Misa balled up her fists and placed them on her hips. "We were supposed to plan our class activity," she reminded them.

"Oh yeah," the basketball player responded as a sweat drop the size of the hope diamond condensed on her forehead. "Well we're here now."

The planning committee leader let out a sigh. "C'mon, we'll meet Hasegawa-san at the library," Misa told them. "By the way, what were you talking about when I walked up?"

"Oh, it was nothing."

--

Thaumasian Plateau, Mundus Magicus

Used as he was to jet travel, Hiro gazed appreciatively at the whaleship's interior. Though it hardly looked it from outside, it had the same space as a small cruise ship back in his world. The cabin he and the professor shared was as big as a hotel suite, and even had an enclosed balcony. Granted, once past the limits of Megalo-Messembria there wasn't much to view, but this was a luxury airlines couldn't match. Unfortunately, the part of the continent they would pass over was considered bleak by its inhabitants. According to Akashi-san, the truly spectacular sights of the Noctis Labyrinthus and Olympus Mons were to the south.

Another thing that confused the young man was although this flight was called an express, they would make several stops along the way. Most ships travelled continuously around the Magic World, making scheduled stops along the way and putting into their home port for maintenance. Express flights just followed a shorter route. No matter what peculiarities the transportation system had, a 24-hour buffet and full-service longue on each deck more than compensated for them.

Since the professor was engrossed with reviewing a text book on Mesophysics, whatever that was, Hiro decided to scope out the aforementioned longue. Of course it was all in the name of information gathering, or so he assured Akashi-san. Although the look he received was dubious, the assassin knew if people were in a relaxed environment, they were apt to speak more openly.

Even this early in the day, the longue was doing a brisk business as any number of furred, finned, scaled, feathered or normal, more or less, customers crowded the room. Next to the packed bar stood what he guessed was a juke box. At least it had a listing of what looked like artists and song titles as well as a slot for 1 Drachma coins. Not surprisingly, none of the names were familiar until the assassin came across 'We are the World' by a group called Damashi.

Curious, he fished in his pocket for change when a voice behind him asked, "Can't you wait for an old man to finish his drink before you start playing that racket?" Turning about, Hiro found he was being addressed by a human with thin, white hair. The stranger's clothing was rumpled as if he had slept in them, and his face showed patches of whiskers as if they were haphazardly shaved. "I swear if I wanted to listen to that music I'd have dropped in a fiver already."

"Sorry oji-san," Hiro replied.

Glancing up from his half-finished drink, the old man studied him for a moment and then mumbled, "No, I should be the one apologizing."

Noting the empty chair at the man's table, he asked to join him. "Go ahead," the stranger answered. "As long as you don't mind a crazy old man for company."

How many drinks his new companion had already, Hiro couldn't tell, but he felt the old man was sizing him up and may not have been as far in his cups as first appeared. "You're a Vetere aren't you?" he was asked.

"Excuse me."

"You're from the Mundus Vetus, the Old World."

"That's right."

"And you're not a mage either," the other declared.

"How can you tell?"

"You aren't arrogant enough," the man explained, "not pretending it's a huge effort when you deign to speak to a mere mortal."

"Surely not all are like that?"

"And that comment means you haven't been here long."

While that was true, Hiro wasn't sure what to make of the conversation. If Tosaka and his buddies were representative, he would have to agree. Yet Blaze and his partner, the trio of mage knight cadets, even Speaker Karkolova didn't fit that mold. Deciding not to antagonize a possible data source, Hiro remained non-committal. "No, I haven't been here long."

"I thought not," the old man remarked and then finished his drink in a single gulp.

An attentive waitress appeared almost immediately. "Refill?" she asked. Pointed ears stuck out at a ninety degree angle from the girl's head and light glinted off a small lock attached to a collar encircling her neck.

"Sure thing sweetheart."

Hiro placed several bills on the tray. "Make that two."

As the elf girl walked away, his companion asked, "Are you old enough to drink?"

"I'm old enough to keep my mouth shut if they don't ask."

"Good answer. What's your name?"

"Oishi Kuranosuke," he answered. "And you?"

"Federson. Juntz Federson," the reply came. "You're that kid who saved all those people at the arena aren't you?"

Hiro's response was a curt "Yes."

"What's the matter? Not fond of the spotlight?"

"Not really."

"Notoriety will fade soon enough," Federson told him. "I'm proof of that."

"I don't blame you for doubting me," the old man continued. "One can scarce believe I was the media's fair haired boy."

Federson's face took on a detached expression as if reminiscing about somebody else. It was a trick Hiro's grandfather used when the old assassin spoke about his past. "For years I studied the effects of the final Battle of Ostia, and at last presented my theories to the world. And everyone listened. I was a bestselling author, appeared on all of the talk shows and was invited to all the best parties. My university even created a new department to make me the head of."

"So then what happened?"

"Just like authors, university professors need to publish too," Federson answered. "Only my next theory didn't sit well with certain people and I suddenly found myself the target of an orchestrated media assault. All those talk shows that fought to host me before were equally ferocious in getting my detractors on. It seemed every magazine had an article on 'Federson's Folly' or 'The Scientist Who Cried Wolf'. By the time the university quietly suggested I step down, I was only too happy to retire."

"I would have contentedly stayed an obscure question for a quiz show if some blogger hadn't started plastering my old papers on her web site," the former scientist continued. "Now everyone wants to talk about Azrael's Sword."

"Azrael's Sword?"

"The name was my publisher's idea, but the concept is simple," Federson replied. "Concentrate enough magical energy in a small enough area and it will release explosively, like a star that becomes a nova. The resulting wave sucks the energy out of anything it encounters, rendering it inert. That's why the area around old Ostia was barren for so long."

"What do you mean by inert?"

"I mean incapable of supporting life. That's why the reference to the Angel of Death."

The elf-girl returned and set their drinks down. "Keep the change," the assassin told her and received a smile in response. "So you decided to take a cruise and get away from it all?"

"No, I was invited to speak at a conference in Phoenicis."

"If you don't like being the center of attention, why jump back into it?"

Picking up his drink, the old scientist grinned. "Because I'd like nothing better than to look 'em all in the eye and say 'I told you so'." Holding up his glass, Federson said "Cheers."

Hiro took a swallow and grimaced as the liquid burned a path down his throat. "Dear God," he gasped. "What is this stuff?"

"They make this in my home city of Antigone; it's called burning wine," the old man replied as his grin grew broader. "Good, isn't it?"

--

**A/N: The chapter heading and title are from the poem 'Risk' by Anais Nin.**

**Azrael is one of many names for the Angel of Death. This figure appears in Jewish, Christian and Islamic traditions.**

**Burning wine is a term for strong spirits that appears in several European languages, but in this case it refers to a clear, vodka-like liquor. Judging from Hiro's reaction, it would be safe to say it was greater than 80 proof.**

**I'll be celebrating a merry Christmas this month, but no matter what holiday you celebrate, I hope it's a happy and safe one. **


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Would you believe that chapter 11 was supposed to be the last one for the year? It seems in my haste to wrap things up, I hadn't noticed most of the next chapter was written. My thanks to Fionn the Otaku for suggesting the main idea of this chapter.**

**Ken Akamatsu continues to own Negima and its characters, but if you want to give me a really nice Christmas gift Ken …. Other characters and references abound in this chapter, but I don't own any of them either. Chiho Masuda was a character mentioned in Makuhari-Fan01's story 'Chao Lingshen: Coming Home' and Councilor Ran from 'Ala Alba in the World of Magic.' I am using both with his gracious consent. Phillip Markham Jr. and other characters are the products of my imagination.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells", **'_reading_'

**Any Other Day**

_**Today is not like any other day … so I'm gone, I have to find my own way **__– Wyclef Jean_

--

Mahora, Japan

If anyone had asked Ayaka how she wanted to spend a Friday evening over a holiday, sitting in a barrel full of steaming water would have been the last answer expected. As aches and pains slowly soaked away, the girl reflected that it was a fitting end to the day. And a full day it had been: catching fish barehanded, leaping chasms, climbing trees and scaling cliff faces. Though Nagase-sensei could have at least warned her that they were poaching someone else's honey; bees were bad enough but being chased by a bear was more than the class rep had bargained for. Of course, it would be perfect if a certain other person was with her.

Glancing at the second barrel, Ayaka could see little wisps of steam rise past Kaede's lightly-tanned face, and pictured her special person relaxing there instead. Unexpectedly, another's image intruded into her fantasy. A boy with a smug grin on his face stared back causing her to jerk upright.

"I was just using you," he had callously remarked between drags on a cigarette. "I figured I could just sweep you off your feet and be set for life."

"Get away from me!" she screamed.

"What's wrong Ayaka-dono?" came a frantic response. "Who are you talking to?"

Instantly the fortune hunter's face vanished and the class rep saw an open-eyed Kaede stare at her. "S-s-sorry," she apologized. "I was thinking about a very unpleasant person."

"Will you be alright?" Kaede asked.

He was so unlike anyone else she knew, Ayaka thought. Hiro had been sweet, charming and one of the few people to show an interest in her as a person. He had been the first, and only, boy she kissed. But it had been a pose and, like others before him, he had been after her family's money. How strange to think about him after so many months. "Yes," iincho-san lied and forced a plastic smile. "I'll be fine."

"So do you come up here often?" Ayaka asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Every chance I have," the kunoichi replied as she settled back into the water. "When my cousin Chiho went to school at Mahora, I would visit on her free weekends … this was our training spot."

"So your cousin trained you?"

"To start with," Kaede answered. "I've been on my own for the last few years."

Ayaka looked away, not wishing to seem intrusive, but her instructor guessed at the class rep's reluctance. "My cousin is well," Kaede explained. "After graduation, Chiho went to work as a special investigator."

--

Megalo-Messembria, Mundus Magicus

Agent Masuda glided through the halls of the Concilium Magus, making only the faintest of noise as she moved. Her light-brown hair was cut short save for a waist-long handful that hung down the middle of her back. Born out of last year's scandal, the Curia Inquisitus existed as an independent office to investigate wrongdoing within the Council. Over the past seven months, it was common enough for councilors to ask to speak with her in some inconspicuous location; this was the first time one had requested a meeting in their office.

'And such a prominent someone at that,' Chiho Masuda thought as she opened the door to Mifune-sama's office. A little, cat-eared receptionist looked up from her desk and observed the newcomer through a pair of black-framed glasses. "Agent Masuda to see Chairman Mifune," she announced.

The young woman, more of a girl Chiho thought, pressed the intercom button. "What is it Karenda-san?" they heard through the speaker.

"The Inquisitor is here Chairman-sama," the receptionist answered.

"Show the agent in," came the response.

The cat-girl stood and motioned for Masuda to follow her. Chiho was surprised by how short the girl was, even in heels. 'And speaking of short, that skirt she's wearing barely covers the essentials.'

After being ushered inside, the ornate door closed softly behind her. Instantly the agent recognized both men in the office: Chairman Mifune, who summoned her, and Ikoma-sama, the man who replaced Councilor Ran after the later was forced to resign in disgrace. "Gentlemen," she said then bowed to them. "How may I be of service?"

"Councilor Ikoma, as you probably know, oversees the Council's finances," Mifune replied as the taller man politely smiled and bowed towards her. "I'll let him explain the situation."

"My committee is wrapping up a quarterly review of the Council's spending when we noticed several glaring discrepancies between what has been spent and what was authorized," the tall man said. "Of them, the project to replace the gate stones shows such gross mismanagement, I would have to classify it as criminal."

"You wish to launch a criminal investigation?"

"No," Mifune interrupted. "At least not yet."

Eyes, still half-closed, regarded the senior councilor. "Why not if you have evidence?" Chiho asked. "Surely it would be better to swiftly deal with the issue would it not?"

"Normally I'd agree with you, but this is an unusual circumstance," the man replied. "Go ahead Ikoma-san, tell her."

"Councilor Regina Karkolova has authorized all expenditures for this project," Ikoma said gravely.

"Our mutual animosity is well known," Mifune explained. "If I bring a complaint, it will be perceived as an attack for political advantage. I am requesting you to make a discreet inquiry and determine if there's enough information to warrant a full investigation."

"And you wish me to do this without letting the Speaker know?"

Ikoma grinned as he remarked, "To do otherwise would be counter-productive."

"So what you're asking me to do is spy upon Speaker Karkolova?"

"Spying is such a sordid sounding word Agent Masuda," the tall man started when Mifune interrupted.

"In essence, yes," he agreed. "That's why I am making a request to you rather than going through official channels."

"I admit that I'd like nothing more than to see Speaker Karkolova defeated," the man admitted, "But not at the cost of destroying what remains of the Council's reputation."

"Thank you for your candor gentlemen but the Curia Inquisitus does not spy," Chiho said firmly. "Contact me when you are ready to call for an investigation."

As she left the office, Agent Masuda began to lay out how she'd have to proceed with an unofficial inquiry. Of course she had to refuse Mifune-sama, as he undoubtedly knew, but there was no way the agent could allow the matter to rest. Chiho hoped nothing would turn up, but if the search bore fruit, she'd have no choice but expose the councilor's misdeeds. Sometimes it sucked to be an honorable ninpo.

--

Granicus, Mundus Magicus

For the previous seven months, the mill throbbed with activity as the great harvest of ofuda trees was processed. Most was pulped to make the paper used to manufacture anything from magic scrolls and contracts to pactio cards. Some were turned into lengths that would later be used to fashion the highest quality wands and staves. Still others became beams, posts, planks and panels valued for creating a variety of structures from a cabinet enchanted against thieves, to ships that sailed the seas and skies, to temples that soared to the heavens.

The harvest had come a year earlier than expected, but few spared a moment of worry as they scrambled frantically to get as many trees as possible to Granicus and other ports along the Elysian coast. Most of the city's population supported the work in some fashion or other, and now that it was done, it seemed most were content to sink into a lethargic pace of life.

Brunello sprawled out his considerable bulk on a couch and gazed at the handheld game console with rapt fascination. Though it seemed lost among such huge, fur-covered hands, fingers deftly click the buttons to keep the action going.

On the display, a figure clad in a blue parka tried to cross an icy chasm via a moving walkway. Midway across, a small bird swooped down and the character swung a huge, wooden mallet in response. The battle was short and decisive as the attacking bird spun away. Unfortunately, an icicle from the platform just above chose to fall at that moment of triumph and smashed the hero sprite. With a sigh, he stared as the words 'Game Over' flashed in mockery. 'At least I wasn't done in by a topi,' he thought.

A floorboard creaked and the bear-man looked up to find his partner approaching. A muzzle covered with reddish-brown hairs separated a pair of yellowish eyes. A bushy tail, banded black, swung from side to side as the wolf-man walked. "Yo Rufus," Brunello called out. "What was the call about?"

His partner yawned widely, revealing a row of dagger-sharp teeth. "Just the mini-boss calling to see how sleeping beauty is doing," Rufus replied. "He seemed to think our friend had gotten loose."

Brunello turned to check on their captive. The prisoner's face was covered by a hood and enchanted chains bound him to a hard, wooden chair. "He's not going anywhere."

Rufus grinned upon noting the candy-heart pink console. "How's the game going?"

"Lousy," he replied as thick fingers jabbed the button to start a new round.

--

Kyoto, Japan

Cautiously Dowaito picked up the thin, metal tube of the blasting cap and thrust it through the paper wrap and paraffin cap into the explosive gel within. After repeating the procedure, tape was wound around the two sticks, binding them together. A black box containing a remote controlled detonator was secured by more tape and the whole placed into a nylon gym bag.

After pushing away from the table, the young man allowed himself to relax. "Is that it then?" a voice behind him asked.

Spinning the chair around, he readjusted his glasses and gazed through them at his fellow conspirator. Noburo, though a year older than he, could have passed for a high school student and at the moment, seemed as nervous as one. "Wires still need to be attached the detonator," Dowaito replied. "I'll do that when we place it."

"I'm not so sure this is a good idea."

"So do we just let them get away with this?" he asked. "Just let them sweep it out the door along with us?"

Cinema Village had a simple premise, immerse customers in a movie-like experience. To that end, actors wandered through the costumed crowds and engaged patrons in both impromptu and carefully orchestrated scenes from popular movies. Sometimes the customers had their own ideas and created "original scripts" to act out. Such behavior was expected, and even encouraged, as long as nobody was put in danger. This of course kept park security on its toes.

During last year's Golden Week, one such "original script" got out of hand. While nobody was hurt, the amount of CG evident indicated park staff cooperation. After an internal investigation failed to produce any conclusions, the majority of the security staff on duty that day was dismissed.

At first, Dowaito and Noburo worked within the system to get reinstated. They had even located and downloaded videos from the net that showed similar CG used to enhance a school's martial arts tournament, but management refused to reconsider. Obviously faked video proved nothing according to them, nor to the local, prefectural or federal labor commissions. After exhausting all of their legal recourses, they were left with but a single option.

"So will that blow up the Sky Wheel?" his companion nervously asked.

"No, I'd need a lot more sticks for that," he replied. "But this should do a number on the engine house."

Dowaito looked at his companion. "We're not going to kill anyone," he assured. "But if we make a loud enough noise, then someone's bound to listen."

--

Kansai Temple, Kyoto Japan

In a holding cell beneath the temple, a blond-haired prisoner snuggled deeper into the blanket as the sound of a wooden slat sliding open was heard. Her warders had been checking on her at irregular intervals throughout the evening. Apparently satisfied, the spy hole cover was pulled back and latched with a loud click. Although only an enchanted scrap of paper, the shikigami was infused with enough of her creator's spirit to feel amusement.

Outside the walls, Tsukuyomi sat patiently on her perch and observed the small group waiting at the bus stop. Four girls, a boy and their adult chaperon stood chatting among themselves. The twin blade was surprised by Cocolova-han's presence, but was unconcerned. It wasn't as if she expected to fight today.

Clothing, weapons and enough funds to see her safely out of town were waiting where Aoyama-sensei said they would be. She should have already fled, however the swordswoman was unwilling to leave before understanding just what her teacher had meant. Sensei implied that she and Setsuna were similar but Tsukuyomi couldn't see how. They were both talented and driven to improve, yet their motivations were entirely different. Her rival was also reluctant to fight, something she relished. Sempai's interest in the ojou-sama mirrored her own preferences, but surely sensei wasn't referring to that.

'At least her shukun cares about her,' the little girl thought as Konoka said something that caused her shinsegumi to suddenly blush. Contrasting the mage she was entrusted to protect with the ojou-sama left her jealous of the hanyo maid. As a bodyguard, the twin blade wasn't entitled to any more consideration than Amagasaki-han had shown. Even after breaking the woman out of her cell, not a word or gesture of gratitude did she receive. 'Not that I expected any.'

Still, that was preferable to the callous disregard Fate-han had shown. The shinmei-ryu should never have trusted the white-haired westerner, but cooperation seemed the only way to accomplish her aims. Once again Tsukuyomi had been left behind in the wreak of another failed scheme of his. If their paths ever crossed again, she promised he would pay dearly for it.

As the bus pulled up, her attention returned to group. Noting the bus number, she jumped to the ground while her quarry boarded. She would have to move cautiously, but if Tsukuyomi could track Setsuna through Kyoto then a bus posed no problem at all.

--

Cinema Village, Kyoto Japan

Asuna stared at her image in the dressing room mirror. Konoka had selected a very expensive gown for her to wear, explaining it was part of a group concept. The dress fit her well, but the teen was uncomfortable wearing something this elegant, especially something so pink.

"How does it look Asuna?" her friend asked.

"Like something Ayaka would wear."

"That's the idea," Konoka replied. "Step outside so I can see you."

Returning to the temple with Anya had surprised the others, but without question they accepted Negi's explanation that he invited his friend to see the sights of Kyoto. Konoka decided that they should all visit Cinema Village before heading back to Mahora. Of course that meant everybody had to dress up in costume.

"Oh, you look so beautiful," Konoka gushed as Asuna exited the dressing room.

"I look like a gob of cotton candy," she replied. "Why can't I wear a kimono like you?"

"Because you're the wildly rich girl who likes manga and video games," the other girl answered. "And I'm the exorcist priestess who's always getting lost."

Knocking on another door, Konoka asked, "Are you ready Se-chan?"

"Just about," came the reply.

"What's this all about Konoka-san?" Anya asked as she stomped into the main area. "Why did I change out of my school uniform to put on a school uniform?"

"Well you're the hero's friend from the high school he used to attend," the chocolate-haired girl said. "You have a secret crush on him."

"Who's got a crush on whom?"

"And you're always being called a hamster."

"A hamster?" Anya indignantly cried. "What kind of nonsense is this?"

Before an argument could begin, Setsuna appeared from behind her dressing room door and Konoka started fussing over her. The swordswoman, dressed like a maid, looked uncomfortable in the full length skirt. "I can't maneuver with this on," the girl claimed.

"It's not like you'll need to Se-chan," her partner countered. "And it looks so cute on you."

Asuna could only watch and shake her head. Her class was definitely filled with characters, each with her own set of eccentricities. And she for one wouldn't want it any other way. As strange as it sounded to say, her classmates provided a sense of stability, the anchor which held firm in the unpredictable seas she travelled. Together they had faced danger and, if the headmaster was correct, would again. Eva-chan had been taken from them and that loss struck deep within her. 'You'll have to deal with me before you touch anyone else,' she told their faceless enemies.

"Let's go see how the guys look," Konoka said and they dutifully followed their leader. No one noticed movement at the end of a rack as a costume was quickly pulled off.

Negi was waiting outside for them, dressed in butler's garb per Konoka's instructions. His smiling face took on a stunned expression as he looked at Asuna, making the girl feel self-conscious. "Asuna looks very beautiful."

Her face began to color at the boy's remark. "You all look wonderful," he hastily added and then looked at his childhood friend in puzzlement. "Why are you wearing another school uniform Anya?"

"I don't know," the grumpy girl answered. "Ask the exorcist priestess."

"Where's Markham-sensei" Setsuna asked.

"When we explained what we were doing," Negi replied, "one of the costume managers said he had something to help Phillip-san look the part. I think the staff member is a Combat Butler fan too."

Asuna snorted at the thought of Combat Butlers. 'What's next?' she wondered. 'Battling waitresses?'

Konoka dragged Setsuna off the buy a camera while Anya's rumbling stomach convinced her to spend some of the money Negi lent her on sweet bun. "You know squirt, you don't have to hand out compliments to make me feel better," she told him.

He seemed taken aback by her comment. "But I meant it," Negi replied in all seriousness. "You look very beautiful when you dress up like this. I think you look every bit like a princess."

Involuntarily, the girl winced at his compliment. During their trip to the Mundus Magicus, they discovered that she was descended from the Royal House of Vespetatia, the former rulers of Ostia. And worse, that within her was locked a terrifying power. A power that would have destroyed the world of her birth had not the boy at her side and her other friends stopped it.

For a moment, Asuna felt the siren song of the void, the place that was everywhere and nowhere at once. It was the place where that part of her called the Imperial Princess of Twilight dwelt. But it wasn't only the princess that was there; something else, something with a voracious hunger lay slumbering in that timeless place. A frightening presence that haunted her dreams and left her shaking in the morning.

"I'm not a princess," the teen-ager said aloud. "And a single mansion in Argyre isn't a kingdom."

"But if the Hellas Empire will confirm your title," Negi reminded her, "that would make you a peer of the realm."

"And a bigger target than I already am," she countered. Associating with Ayaka and Konoka had made her aware of the problems children of the rich and powerful encountered, and Asuna wanted no part of it. "Thanks but no thanks."

"Negi-san, Asuna-san," Phillip called out. The pair saw the older man walk towards them. He was dressed in a suit similar to the one Negi wore, but had on a grey-haired wig and mustache. To this was added a pair of rimless spectacles. "How does it look?"

"I hardly recognize you Phillip-san," the boy said.

Meanwhile, Asuna gazed at her homeroom teacher admiringly. She hadn't noticed how attractive he could be and though her heart was still given to Takahata-san, the student had no qualms with window shopping. "You look very …" several adjectives passed through her mind, including a few she'd be too embarrassed to repeat aloud, but finally she decided on "very distinguished sensei."

--

Steel covered with neon-filled tubes soared gracefully to 122 meters above the ground. That height made the Ferris wheel the tallest, by 2 meters, in Japan and one of the tallest in the world. As Phillip stared at the top, he imagined clouds drifting placidly by as the cars were lifted above them.

"Come on sensei," Asuna called.

"I think I'll pass," he replied. His response drew a collective "please sensei" from his students, but the teacher politely, yet firmly, refused their entreaties. Being dressed in costume was about as far as he was willing to bend.

"You go ahead," he replied. "I'll wait for you on that bench over there."

Settled on the bench, he watched the group wend its way through the line. Chances to relax were becoming rarer with this class, and as much as Phillip wanted his students to be able to enjoy themselves, he knew they had to start preparing. Yet without knowing what to expect, how could they plan? Solid intelligence formed the basis of any OPLAN; without it, they might as well fight blindfolded. Still, there were some things they could do.

Defenders held an advantage of fighting on familiar terrain. To maximize that they would need to identify all of Mahora's strong and weak points. By a happy coincidence, three members of the last group to compromise the school's defenses were in his homeroom class. 'How convenient,' the teacher thought. 'I guess we'll form an after class study group.'

Based on what little they got out of the captured succubus, demons figured to be part of the attacking force. Since demons had appeared in literature for a few thousand years, some records were bound to exist. A dedicated team of researchers would be needed and another study group suggested itself. Considering his students, Phillip could immediately identify his Comm, Intel, Tactical and Covert Ops officers. "Piece of cake," the man said as a couple of blue-suited, park employees passed by him and stepped into the small building next to the Ferris wheel.

In fact, his class seemed uniquely suited for a task like this. 'I wonder if the headmaster did this on purpose,' Phillip thought. 'That's a scary idea.'

Negi and the others stepped into a gondola-like car and began their 20 minute trip. For the moment, Phillip was content and leaned back with eyes closed. As he exhaled, letting tension out along with breath, an image formed unbidden in his mind. A crowbar wedged between floor boards and pried a couple up. Hands lowered two sticks of what looked like dynamite wired to a black box beneath the floor and the boards were hurriedly tamped back into place. "What in blazes?" he thought as eyes snapped open and began to scan the area. The pair of men wearing identical coveralls walked out of the engine house. One carried a gym bag while the other held a crowbar. Moving before he realized it, Phillip called out, "Hey! Wait!"

Before the teacher had gotten more than a few steps, he tripped over a small figure and both fell to the ground in a heap. He lay on top of a child dressed in a costume resembling some type of yellow-furred rodent. "Sorry kid," he muttered in English.

"Markham-han?" gasped a startled voice.

"Tsukuyomi-san?"

"Would you believe …" started the hesitant response when Phillip cut her off.

"No and I've got no time either," he replied while scrambling to his feet. "Got to stop those bombers."

"Bombers?"

--

"Where's Markham-sensei?" Asuna asked as the car continued its upward climb. She pointed at the vacant bench. "He was sitting right there."

"There he is," Konoka said as she located their costumed teacher. "Is he fighting with those men?"

Negi reached for the car's door but Anya grabbed hold of his arm. "Idiot!" she said. "Do you want to reveal your magic?"

"But Phillip-san," he started to argue.

"Markham-sensei is handling it," Setsuna said as her homeroom teacher blocked a punch and followed with a right cross that staggered his opponent. However, the swordswoman was more interested in the short, child-like figure, dressed as a yellow mouse. Moving with a grace worthy of a shinmei-ryu, the costumed character easily evaded a clumsy attack.

"I wonder if that's supposed to be a Liddo-kun," Konoka said and three heads swiveled to stare at her in confusion.

"Nope," Anya answered with an air of smug superiority. "That's a Pikachu."

--

'Amateur,' Tsukuyomi scornfully thought as she dodged the wildly swung metal bar. If these men were indeed bombers, they had to be stopped before sempai got herself hurt. After all she wouldn't be able to duel the girl again if Sakurazaki-han were blown up. At least the gathering crowds would assume this was yet another show put on for their amusement. A group of children wearing the same white tee-shirts with the words '_Dogora School_' stenciled across the front were busy oohing and aahing over the mock fight. 'What some people will believe.

Frustrated, her opponent raised the bar over his head and brought it straight down. Not even bothering to step aside, Tsukuyomi grabbed the young man's wrist, spun and pulled. Her assailant flipped over and smacked into the pavement. The Shinmei-ryu contemptuously removed the weapon from a limp hand as enthusiastic cheers erupted.

"Are you alright?" the voice of her temporary ally asked. Markham-han had started to walk towards her when Tsukuyomi noticed his opponent pull a metal device from a pocket. While a crowbar wasn't the same as her sword, ki instantly flowed as she raised the improvised blade.

"**Raimeikan!**"

Lightning flashed and thunder roared. Her target lay flat on his back with wisps of smoke rising above him. As the crowd applauded, the swordswoman glanced up at the Ferris wheel. The crowbar lifted in salute then clanged to the ground as the costumed girl turned and fled to the sound of an ovation. She was no closer to her answer, but more opportunities to cross swords with sempai lay in the future. Of that, the twin blade was certain.

--

From the top of the wheel's rotation, the gondola's occupants watched as park security swarmed the ground below. "See I told you it was a Pikachu," Anya gloated. "That was a thunderbolt attack."

--

Kansai Temple, Kyoto Japan

Betrayed. That was how she felt languishing in a cell for a year as the Kansai Association leaders debated her punishment. Amagasaki Chigusa hadn't expected loyalty from mercenaries, but had from supposed allies within the magic association. Allies who, instead of working towards her release, seemed content to let the onmyoji rot where she was.

Then lo and behold but one of the mercenary children appeared, the white-haired wizard from Istanbul. How Fate had bypassed the temple's security measures was a mystery, but the boy came with an offer; her freedom in return for the construction of a handful of talismans. Chigusa created the charms and patiently waited. When the cell door finally opened, to her surprise, the little shinmei-ryu girl stood with drawn swords. "What are you doing here?" she had stupidly asked.

"Freeing my shukun," Tsukuyomi had answered. Together they fled the underground vault and reached the surface, only to stumble across a contingent of temple warriors.

"Run!" the girl had ordered. "I'll hold the guards off."

"But …"

"But nothing," the twin blade interrupted. "This is all for nothing if you don't escape."

So Chigusa had run. But instead of fleeing the city, the mage had hidden in its depths. Eluding enemies in a city of any size was easy enough; one had only to fade into its shadows. Becoming one of the denizens of Kyoto's seamier side provided concealment and allowed her to move about with some freedom.

Few noticed an outlandishly dressed woman passing by the temple. Black hair was cut short with a frosted, white stripe added to one side. Her figure was clad in a leather outfit that set every curve in clear relief. Contacts turned eyes a deep, emerald green and her left cheek sported a rose tattoo. While her appearance was designed to attract attention, no one would confuse her with a wanted felon.

During the past week, she had asked herself several times why she had stayed. "I'm waiting for pursuit to cool down," Chigusa answered, and had known it for a lie. Stalin's quote that 'gratitude is the disease of dogs' kept replaying through her mind as she glanced up the trail to the main gates. "It's not gratitude," the mage consoled herself. "I can use a good henchman."

Perched on a tree limb, she surveyed the temple grounds. A half-dozen guards escorted the unarmed Shinmei-ryu into the central courtyard. Only a handful of talismans were left, but they would have to do. If she went in quickly enough …

A cold, steel edge pressed against her throat, interrupting the mage's thought. "Were you going to rescue me?" a little girl's surprised voice asked.

"Yay," Tsukuyomi softly cheered. "I'm touched but it wouldn't do to have you captured again, now would it?"

As the blade was removed, Chigusa turned to see the shinmei-ryu next to her. The girl wore a blue satin dress, covered in ruffles with lace dripping from collar and cuffs. Her head was covered by a matching bonnet and a sword lay in either hand. Back inside the temple, captive and guards passed out of sight. "How did you …"

"That's a new look for you isn't it Amagasaki-han?" the girl asked as she sheathed both weapons.

Chigusa glared at the swordswoman who smiled in return. "It would be best to leave before the shikigami is unmasked don't you think?" Tsukuyomi asked as she held out a hand to assist her shukun down.

--

**A/N: The events with Hiro that Ayaka refers to are from the separate story 'Hiro's Lament.' **

**The chapter title and heading are from 'Any Other Day' written by Wyclef Jean and sung by Nora Jones.**

**The following words and phrases are used:**

**Concilium Magus – Council of Mages**

**Curia Inquisitus** - **Court of Investigation**

**Ninpo – another word for Ninja**

**Karenda – like Koyomi means Calendar**

**Shukun – Master**

**Shinsegumi – Bodyguard**

**OPLAN - Operations Plan**

**And if you're feeling like there's nothing to do cause the shine has worn off that Wii or X-box, head on over to the Train Station forum and check out the Design the Mascots section. It would really make our moderator happy if you contributed a design or just an idea. Maybe happy enough we'll get to see the next chapter of 'Canon.'**


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Travelling over the Christmas Holiday was a true adventure. Like many others, I got to spend an additional half day enjoying the wonders of the airport terminal in Atlanta while trying to go home for a few days. While rain, snow or gloom of night won't stop the mailman, airplanes are different matter. On the positive side, I got another two-thousand words written in-between napping on a row of seats and walking around trying to find a cup of coffee or a recharging station for my laptop. So let us ring in the New Year with another chapter.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters as well as Shirai from 'Love Hina'. While Emily Sevensheep's mother appears in the manga as an obsessed Nagi Springfield fan, I am borrowing Makuhari-Fan01's version of her from 'Ala Alba in the World of Magic'** **as well as Chiho-san****.**** Other OC's belong to me. Events, situations and characters from 'Her Wish' and 'Hiro's Lament' are referenced.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells", **'_reading_', _memories_

**Of Mice and Men**

_**The best laid schemes o' mice an' men gang aft agley –**__ Robert Burns_

_**--**_

Solis Lacus, Mundus Magicus

A line of tokage lumbered single file between twin ridges of dunes. Broad, flat feet stamped the sand, raising rust-red clouds in response. Each bore a cargo pod and rider upon wide, strong backs. As the beasts plodded forward, the huff-huff of their breathing was snatched and carried off by the constant wind that blew over the Solis Lacus.

Once an expanse of water, worthy of being called a lake, had covered its surface; but that had dried out centuries ago, leaving a wasteland of iron oxide bearing sand behind. Swathed in the same white, cotton robe and head scarf as the others, Cycilia Sevensheep rocked back and forth in rhythm with her mount's plodding gait. As a reporter for Ariadne's independent KitNews Network, she was far from her normal haunts.

An upcoming conference on the Global Mana Crisis had brought her to the city of Oculus to interview Doctor Giles Glimmerhorn, one of the conference's organizers. According to the mathematician's computations, the world was entering a cycle of increased natural production of the energy that powered magic. Evidence suggested that many such cycles had occurred without ill effect, the last one ending a scant 20,000 years ago, so why the concern the public asked.

In all previous cases, the gateways between the worlds had acted as a safety valve, allowing excess energy to flow into the Mundus Vetus. Should that escape route be cut off, such as by permanently sealing the gates, rising energy levels could have dire results. "Foul" cried supporters for complete separation between the worlds, labeling such concerns alarmist propaganda. And so the realm of science became the latest battleground of politics. Being a conscientious citizen as well as an investigative reporter, Cycilia had travelled to the frontlines.

Arriving in Oculus over a week ago, she was disappointed to learn that her interviewee was out in the desert, taking a final set of measurements before the conference. The intrepid reporter had gone out with the search party when the doctor's group failed to return on time. Three days ago they had found remains of the party's mounts and equipment, all scorched by fire, but not a trace of the people. It was as if they had disappeared from the face of the planet.

"Maybe a dragon got them," one of the rescuers had suggested. Cycilia didn't recall a lot of her high school science classes, but she did remember that the reptile-like creatures hibernated during winter months when food was scarce. Unless they stumbled into its lair, a dragon wouldn't have roused itself to attack. Nor would one have eaten only people and left tokage carcasses rotting in the sun. Bandits made more sense, but then why would they take people and leave valuable supplies and animals behind? 'Could they have fallen to slavers?' she wondered. While possible, waiting for potential victims in such a desolate spot didn't make sense either.

Instinct was, according to some, an important part of a reporter's arsenal. Cycilia preferred to work with facts but this was one gut feeling that would constantly nag until she got to the bottom of it. Much like pursuing the story on the "terrorists" who destroyed the gateports last summer had been.

That had turned into a conspiracy involving high level members of the Mage Council as well as survivors of the Vespetatian Royal Family. The resulting scandal rocked the Council and forced out numerous councilors, ministers, bureau chiefs and even assistants that made the morning coffee. It resulted in the largest turnover of personnel since imperial forces overthrew Speaker Katis nearly 60 years ago.

Though not as earth-shaking, the disappearance of the scientist was troublesome. As the walls of Oculus came into view, Cycilia considered her next move. The express flight was expected on the morrow and that would take her to Phoenicis. Much as she wanted to stay and explore this mystery, the conference was a higher priority to the network. 'And maybe the world,' she anxiously thought.

Authorities here would be able to do more than her, she concluded. Cycilia's responsibility was to cover the conference, not locate a missing satyr scientist and his assistants. Turning to glance over her shoulder, the reporter took a long look at the desert of rust. 'And yet …'

--

Megalo-Messembria, Mundus Magicus

Ornate wooden panels adorned the walls as a string quartet played in the background. Elegantly attired staff moved about the room with a grace that struck Regina as mechanical. As a tuxedoed fox-man with perfectly coiffed hair took their order, she reflected that these types of places that catered to the cultured, insert wealthy, set her teeth on edge. Give her a cozy pub and a spot near the fire, and she'd be perfectly happy. Such an atmosphere would no doubt horrify her dinner companion. Councilor Jurgen was a handy ally but the man was much too concerned with appearances. So she painted on a cheerful smile and gave the waiter her order.

Lost in her own thoughts, the woman was surprised to find her companion looking expectantly at her. "I'm sorry Freidrich, did you say something?"

"I said the musicians are quite good aren't they."

The quartet had fine technical skill, yet their playing seemed to lack any spark of emotion. It struck Regina as artificial, like their waiter's mincing motions. "Yes they're splendid," she replied. "Do you suppose they do requests?"

"I'm sure they'd willingly oblige," he answered. "What would you like to hear?"

"How about 'No Sympathy for the Devil'?"

The man's face looked puzzled by her request. "I'm not sure that's in their repertoire."

"Then don't worry about it," she said. "What did you want to speak with me about?"

"Don't you want to wait until dinner first?"

"If I'm going to have indigestion, I'd rather know starting off."

"I received a follow-up report from Oculus this morning," Freidrich answered. "The search party found no trace of Doctor Glimmerhorn or his assistants."

Regina could feel her heart sink with the news. She had met the satyr mathematician during the middle of the previous summer's troubles. As then chairman of the Internal Affairs Committee, the woman was up to her neck dealing with the destruction of the gateports and chasing after a group of teen and pre-teen "terrorists." Then the good doctor gave her something to really worry about.

Equations made little sense to her, math had never been Regina's best subject, but the probable outcomes did. _"Destruction of 60 percent of the planet's surface area," she had scoffed. "Isn't that a little extreme Doctor?"_

"_Not in the least Councilor Karkolova," he had answered. "In fact, that may be a best case scenario with only one gateport active."_

"_Have an independent party confirm my calculations but please don't ignore them," the horned scientist pleaded. "If I'm proved wrong, well and good, otherwise we must take immediate action."_

"I'm sorry Regina," her companion continued. "I know you were fond of the little fellow."

She felt resentment at the implication Doctor Glimmerhorn was of no more importance than a pet, but quickly smothered it. Fighting with one of her supporters in the council wouldn't do either of them any good. "Thank you Freidrich."

"Will the conference still go on without him?"

"I would imagine so," the woman answered. "Someone will be sent to present Doctor Glimmerhorn's findings, and the group from Tantalus will be there."

Councilor Jurgen's lips pursed together and Regina realized that the other shoe had yet to drop. "What's the other bad news?"

"Chairman Mifune and Councilor Ikoma had a meeting this morning," he responded. "They were joined shortly thereafter by one of the inquisitors."

"And that's all?"

"What do you mean that's all?" Freidrich asked in surprise. "Doesn't it concern you what those two might be plotting?"

"Of course it does," she answered smiling. "Has an investigation been requested?"

"No."

"I knew when I accepted the Speakership that I'd be plotted against every day," Regina remarked. "If I spend my days wondering about what my enemies might be up to, I'll never get anything done."

"Don't underestimate your enemies Regina."

"I don't, but during my time as a bounty hunter I tracked down the absolute scum of this world and brought them in" she told him. "I'm not going to waste time worrying about a possible investigation."

--

"Leaving so soon Chiho-san," one of her co-workers asked. "You're usually the last out of the office."

"It's been a long day," the investigator declared. "I need some time to unwind."

"A few of us are going to that new club," she was told. "Do you want to come along?"

"I can think of better things to do than to slip drachma into a scantily clad dancer's drawers," Chiho answered. "I'm going to work out at the gym."

"Aw, that's no fun," one of the girls declared.

"I don't know about that," said another. "Some pretty hot guys hang out at the gym."

Grinning, Agent Masuda left as they started discussing the relative merits of dancers versus body builders. Chiho wasn't averse to admiring a handsome physique; however what she needed was to relax. Combing through files didn't sound like a grueling task, but after so many hours the mind began to feel numb. A while hitting the punching bag would shake loose some of her lethargy and get the blood flowing to the brain again.

Once in the daylight, the ninpo donned a pair of dark glasses and set off at a brisk pace. For someone holding an important position, there was scant information on Speaker Karkolova. The woman had emigrated from the Mundus Vetus a little over 10 years ago, coming in through the Tibetan Gate. Records indicated she was born in Chernobyl, part of the former Soviet Republic of Ukraine, but couldn't be confirmed since the nuclear disaster destroyed all official files. She claimed only one living relative, a half-brother in Britain who had been petrified along with the rest of his village during a demonic invasion.

'Not much to go on,' she mused. 'Still it is the present that is of importance.'

Walking along the busy streets, the spot between her shoulder blades began to twitch as Chiho became aware of unseen eyes watching. Investigating mages was not without risk, but while veiled threats and intimidation were common, no one had been attacked. "There's always a first time," the brown-haired agent reminded herself. "Then again, whoever may want to talk."

Purposely, she turned down a less crowded street and began to scan for a more secluded spot. If this unknown person wanted to talk or act, it would be best to get it swiftly out of the way. A service alley for deliveries provided the best location so far and the ninpo ducked inside and waited. It didn't take long as three men in dark suits materialized as if from thin air.

The woman's arm snapped forward and three hari-gata sailed through the air and sunk into her leftmost opponent's chest. Meanwhile, the ninpo ran up the right wall and launched herself at the nearest man. Turning in mid-air, her feet slammed into her adversary's head and it twisted to the side with a sharp crack. Not taking the time to think, Chiho flung the kyoketsu shoge towards the final man. The knife blade pierced into a lung and she held the attached cord tightly as he fell to the ground.

Checking her assailants revealed all three were life-sized dolls made of molded plastic. 'Manikins,' Agent Masuda realized. 'Was this a warning or a test?'

--

Headmaster's Office, Mahora Japan

Konoka sat in the chair, hands resting on knees, and stared across the massive desk at her grandfather. In the weeks since his brush with death, it seemed to her that he had grown older and frailer. 'I'm just imagining things,' the girl though. 'But he is under a lot of strain.'

Strain his teen-aged heir understood after filling-in as the Association's leader while he was incapacitated. It was an eye-opening experience to be sure, filled with frustrations and disappointments. Yet at times the feeling of being in charge was exhilarating. Not the snap-your-fingers-and-people-instantly-scurry-to-do-your-biding type of exhilarating; more the you-can-accomplish-so-much-good kind.

Setsuna had become her provisional partner during that time. Though forced upon them by circumstances, Konoka was glad for that link. Even standing behind the chair, the girl's reassuring presence calmed her. Much as she liked Negi, and there was a secret part of her that wished the boy was a few years older, when it came time for a permanent pactio, it would be made with Se-chan.

Of course, the visions that Markham-sensei related gave her reason to pause. According to her teacher, the future held not only many joys but also a separation between them that would widen over the years. Years that would grant Konoka children and grandchildren, while her precious partner remained stoically at her side, alone save for her. 'I won't have you throw away your life,' the healer vowed. 'I will find a way for both of us to be happy and together.'

"You understand why I have asked you here?" her grandfather asked, though it seemed more of a statement.

"Yes grandfather," she answered. "Another o-miai."

"I wish you would not treat this as a distasteful duty," Konoemon said. "A great deal of time and effort is spent to try and find an acceptable suitor."

"I do appreciate all that," the girl replied. "It's just …"

Silently he regarded her, with nary a twitch in those bushy, white eye brows, and waited for Konoka to continue. "It's just so rushed, like an endless parade of contestants I must choose from."

"But at least you have a choice," he reminded her. "Neither your mother nor grandmother did."

"Our marriages were arranged by family members," the headmaster continued. "My intended bride and I first met a month prior to the wedding."

"But you and grandmother loved each other."

"Very much so," Konoemon responded. "But that love grew over time."

"What if it hadn't?"

"Then our marriage would have been a very long and unhappy one." Konoka watched as sadness settled across the old man's face. "We cannot change the fact that there are matters outside of your feelings that will effect who you marry."

The same sadness weighed heavily in the pit of her stomach. How stupid it was to assume she could make others happy when the girl was powerless to ensure her own. "When am I to be ready?"

"Arrangements have been made for you to meet at this restaurant," Konoemon said as he slide a yellow post it note towards her. "The young man will be there at 6 pm sharp tomorrow."

"So is this one another 32 year old doctor?"

"No, he's 24 and a recent college graduate," her grandfather replied. "He works as a programmer for Namako game company."

Pressing down on the intercom button, Konoemon called, "Akiko-kun, would you bring in the flowers." A few moments later, the office door opened and the receptionist wheeled in a tea cart bearing a vase with a dozen, long-steamed roses.

"These arrived after you left for the class trip," the headmaster said. "I'll have them delivered to your room."

The receptionist handed her a small card. "This came with the roses," the young woman said.

On their way out of the administration building, Konoka glanced at the note card. '_I had a great time at the club the other night. I look forward to seeing you again. Shirai Kimiaki._' The girl had to read it through a few more times before the figurative light bulb clicked on. A smile appeared in response as she grabbed Setsuna's hand and started running. "Come on."

"Where are we going?"

--

Teacher's Dormitory, Mahora Japan

"I'm sorry Konoka," Negi replied. "I promised Ayaka-san that I'd spend Monday with her."

"But it's just for the evening," she pleaded.

"It's alright," Setsuna said. "I don't need an escort."

"I won't be able to enjoy myself if you're sitting in a tree somewhere," Konoka responded. "Please Negi-kun?"

"Just like going to Kyoto, I won't break my promise," the boy answered. "Besides wouldn't an eleven year old date seem odd?"

"There's always the age deceiving pills," Chamo added.

"No," Negi firmly responded. Glaring at the ermine, the young mage explained, "Ako-san made me give my word I wouldn't use those again except in an absolute emergency."

Before Konoka could continue wearing away the boy's resistance, her homeroom teacher walked into the room. "Well hello Konoka-san, Setsuna-san," Phillip greeted his students. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything important?"

"Not at all," the younger teacher quickly answered. "Konoka-san was telling me about her o-miai."

"What's an o-miai?"

"An o-miai is like a blind date," she explained to the American. "It gives couples a chance to know each other and determine if they are compatible for marriage."

"Marriage?" Phillip couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. "Isn't this a little early? I mean you're a first year high school student."

"Not when you consider my family's position," she answered. A thoughtful expression came over her face and Setsuna shuddered from a sudden chill.

"I was asking Negi-kun if he could act as a chaperon, but he's busy," the girl commented. "Are you doing anything tomorrow evening, about 6?"

Conversation was interrupted by an unexpected thump.

"Se-chan?"

"Setsuna-san?"

"Miss Sakurazaki?"

As the three gathered around the prone swordswoman, the wheels started spinning in Chamo's head. There had to be a way for the ermine to have a little fun with this. And if he could turn a profit too, so much the better.

--

"I'd like to help you out," Phillip told the girl, "However, the rules about teachers not dating students are there for good reason."

"But it wouldn't be a date sensei," Konoka explained. "You're a chaperon for my date and if you accompany Se-chan, no one will question why she's with me."

"I understand that, and you understand that, but not everyone else will," the teacher countered. "Like it or not, perception is often more important than the reality."

"Can you honestly tell me that your classmates won't jump to the wrong conclusion?" Phillip asked.

Konoka and Negi only had to remember their supposed date when the cheerleading trio spotted them shopping for last year's school trip. Everything had turned out alright in the end, yet it could have had so many bad ends. "No," she was finally forced to admit.

"I may have a solution to this situation," Chamo chimed in.

Phillip glared mistrustfully at the ermine as Negi started shaking his head. "No way," the boy cried. "I told you we weren't going to use those again."

"But big brother, this is nearly an emergency if Setsuna-san isn't close enough to protect Konoka-san," the rodent remarked. "And you won't have broken your promise not to use them."

Understanding came to both girls. Konoka's face brightened while her friend looked horror struck. "That's perfect," the chocolate-haired teen excitedly cried.

"What are you all talking about?" the man asked.

"These," Chamo said as he held up a half-full jar of red and blue pills that reminded Phillip of gumballs.

The teacher could imagine the "ta-da" that went along with the big revelation, but he was still perplexed. "And these are what?"

"Magic age-changing candies of course," the ermine answered. "One of these and you'll look half your age."

"Not interested," the American replied. "My last few experiences with magic haven't been exactly pleasant if you remember."

Konoka looked at him with the most pleading look she could muster. "Please sensei," she begged. "It would mean so much to me."

Phillip was adamant and about to refuse for the absolutely last time, when he made the mistake of looking into the biggest puppy-dog eyes that generations of Konoe women had spent perfecting to their most devastating. 'She's fighting dirty,' he realized but couldn't shore up his resolve as swiftly as it was eroding.

"Are these pills safe?" he asked.

"Perfectly," Chamo replied.

"I'll show you," Konoka volunteered but Setsuna snatched the bottle first.

"Not this time," the swordswoman said. "I should dump these down the sink."

Konoka's expression became fearful at the other girl's threat. Quickly she tried to think up a scheme to stop her when Setsuna smiled and handed the pills to their homeroom teacher. "I would be honored if you would help me watch over Kono-chan tomorrow evening."

Showing equal courtesy in defeat, Phillip replied, "And I would be honored to assist you."

--

Kyoto, Japan

Spring flowers covered the mountain meadow in a riot of color. A vagrant breeze stirred their blooms as a rich, floral scent filled the air. Unheedful of their beauty, the man in a tattered robe sat on a low wall and stared at the marble gravestone. The cowl lay in folds about his shoulder, and wind twisted back and forth stray locks of reddish-brown hair. Eyes closed and Nagi saw the meadow as it once was.

_Sunlight glinted from golden hair as she stood before her cottage. They had spent the day building the illusion that cloaked her home and Gwyn smiled in pleasure at a job well done. "I can't detect anything from outside," Nagi had complimented._

"_Of course you can't idiot," his sister-in-law had laughed. "If I know anything, I know illusions."_

"_Your strength, my skill, how could it be otherwise," she immodestly boasted. "Anna will be safe and sound, and you can go back to saving the world dear brother."_

"_Why don't you talk to Owyn?"_

_Nagi watched as the smile faded but didn't entirely disappear from her face. "I'll talk to my husband when I can tell him the truth," Gwyn answered. "Anything else is useless until then."_

"_My brother still loves you."_

"_He's a wonderful man and always has been," the woman ruefully replied. "And Nekane's the little girl I always wished for."_

"_Then why let them suffer?"_

"_Because I can't face them right now," she snapped. "How can I tell my husband that after nine years of marriage, I don't love him anymore?"_

"_How can I explain that I'd rather be in his brother's arms?" A pained look crossed her face as she stared hard at Nagi. "Answer me that Mister Man of a Thousand Spells."_

"_I don't feel about you that way Gwyn," he replied shamefaced._

"_I know that," his sister-in-law responded. Her voice sounded horse as if she were on the verge of tears._

_At an unusual loss for words, he could only stare at the woman as her shoulders shuddered and then straightened. Nagi loved his wife, he loved his brother, he even loved the woman before him, and the pain was tearing away at them all._

"_Look I'll watch over Anna for you," Gwyn replied. "I'll make sure your little boy is born."_

_The woman's eyes were deadly serious as she spoke. "Maybe when you get back from Istanbul, we can all sort this out," Gwyn told him._

Nagi opened his eyes and looked about the now darkening grounds. Standing up, he fetched his staff and glanced one more time at the grave stone. "You kept your word Gwyn," he whispered to the shadow of her memory. "I am so sorry it ended this way." Turning about, the mage pulled up his hood and walked away from the little enclosed plot, vanishing into the evening gloom.

--

Marin County, California

A stranded car parked in the middle of the highway was a common enough sight in California. The white sedan had its hood up and four way flashers on. Tanned legs ending in a pair of white shorts hugged the side of the disabled vehicle. As an unmarked panel van rounded the corner, one of the legs bent at a 45 degree angle. Fortunately for the hapless motorist, the state had implemented a Good Samaritan law several years ago and the van's driver stopped a few meters behind the car.

Engine idling, the passenger door opened and a man in a khaki uniform stepped out. The armed sheriff's deputy cautiously approached and called out, "What seems to be the matter?"

A girl with long, brown hair stood up straight in response. Though pretty, she was quite young, obviously a new driver. "I'm not sure," the girl answered and then gulped as she noticed the policeman.

'Definitely a new driver,' the deputy thought as he noted her response.

"This is a dangerous place," he told her. "You need to push the car off to the side of the road."

"But it's so big," the brown-haired girl replied. "And I don't know what to do."

"Could you take a look at the engine?" she hopefully asked. "Maybe you can fix it for me?"

The officer shook his head and walked to the side of the vehicle. A smell of burnt rubber was detectable several meters away, and a puddle of liquid was still spreading underneath the engine compartment. "What the …," he cried, snatching his hand back from the scorching hot engine.

"Are you okay mister?" she asked, concern on her face.

"Yeah," the man replied. "What happened?"

"Um, well I was just driving along and heard a squealing sound," the teen answered. "And then all the dashboard lights went on and there was smoke coming out from under the hood, and … and I didn't know what to do."

"It's alright miss," the deputy tried to calm her; afraid he'd have a hysterical girl on his hands. Carefully, he bent back down over the engine and examined it more closely. "I think that's part of your problem."

"What's that," she eagerly replied.

"That hose has melted," he pointed out.

"Which hose is that?"

"This one here," he said, reaching down to show her.

Suddenly the girl stood, grabbed the edge of the hood and slammed it down across his back. The van's other door flew open as the driver pulled his service revolver and aimed. He never got a shot off and his uniform burst into flames. The second man screamed in agony as his metal badge bubbled and bits of metal seared his breast. Falling to the ground, the deputy thrashed about, trying to beat out the fire.

Homura ducked in through the passenger's side and slid across the bench seat, ignoring her victim's cries. A foot pressed down on the clutch and the van shifted into reverse. Slamming the driver's door shut, she changed gears and started forward. Soon, the ministra had left the abandoned car far behind and was headed towards the rendezvous point.

Master Fate's mission had failed, due no doubt to his supporting ministra. Why their magister continued to show a preference for the blind violinist the girl didn't know. Hopefully, this would prove how much more dependable she was. Granted, springing a prisoner from a few mundanes was no challenge at all, but it was a start towards repairing the reputation lost at Ostia.

--

As the van sharply veered around the suddenly twisting road, it was all the shackled prisoner could do to keep from being battered against every surface inside the vehicle. Koichi let loose with a steady stream of curses in both his native Japanese and English. He even tossed in the few words of Spanish he had picked up during the last week, but to no avail as another curve threw him back against the sound-proofed side.

He could feel the van slow and take a right turn. This new road was straighter, but jolts from numerous stones and ruts rattle the man's teeth and everything else. "Are they trying to torture me?" the former yakuza muscle wondered.

Life had started going downhill last summer when a failed drug shipment cost him the tip of a finger. He was then given the task of snatching the granddaughter of a rival Kobun. But that had soured when some punk kid had shown up, released the girl, turned his men into a bunch of drooling idiots, and beat Koichi to a bloody pulp.

After fleeing the country, he thought his luck had changed when the former captive wandered into reach, on a school trip to no less. In America there was a song that went "If it weren't for bad luck, I'd have no luck at all." The past few weeks had acquainted the thug with its meaning. He had cornered the girl at a movie studio when another boy, American this time, showed up and started blabbering about the cops. Then those robed idiots got taken out by a freak ice storm. Koichi still had no idea how a hailstone caved in the roof of his rental car.

Again he had caught up to her at the San Francisco airport and was tackled by a sumo-wrestler sized bus driver. Not only had he been arrested, but his shot had missed. Now the baka of a driver was going to run them off a cliff and all of them would go up in a spectacular fireball.

Surprised by a sudden stop, Koichi listened as the handles on the back door turned. Sunlight streamed in and the man could barely make out the long-haired figure bathed in the glare. His sight adjusted as a teen-aged girl stepped into the compartment. "You are Miyaki Koichi?" his rescuer asked.

"Yes," he replied. "Who are you?"

A finger touched the lock of his shackles and Koichi watched in fascination as steel glowed first red and then white. Metal flowed and dripped onto the floor, forming a silvery puddle. "What in hell did you do?"

A face that looked like it had never smiled regarded the orange, jump suited prisoner. "I am a prospective employer," the stranger answered. "And I just freed you."

"If you can do this," Koichi indicated the pile of slag on the floor, "what do you need me for?"

"I have more important jobs to do, but I need some people dealt with," the girl who could melt steel told him. "One of them is a high school student named Naba Chizuru."

The gangster knew he couldn't keep the surprise off his face at the mention of that name. "Are all these people at Mahora?"

"Yes," she replied with an expression that seemed both bored and irritated. "Interested Miyaki-san?"

"Oh yeah, I'm interested."

--

**A/N: Chapter title and heading are from 'To A Mouse' by Robert Burns. This should be proof that life imitates art and vise versa.**

**When dealing with the Magic World geography, it is apparent that Akamatsu-san flipped his map over so that South is to the top and North at the bottom. I also believe East and West are swapped too. I am arbitrarily declaring that seasons follow our world's so that April and May are spring months in the northern hemisphere, but autumn in the southern (Plain of Thaumasia) where Hiro and Professor Akashi are at.**

**Solis Lacus – Lake of the Sun**

**Hari-gata – a needle-like shuriken. See chapter 42, page 6 for use in the manga.**

**Kyoketsu shoge – a double-edged knife blade attached to a long section of rope or chain. Has a secondary blade connected at a 90 degree angle to the primary blade.**


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: I may be shivering in the cold but in the story it's spring when a young man's thoughts turn to, well you don't need me to explain that. **

**Since I didn't receive that Christmas gift, Ken Akamatsu still owns Negima and its characters, Kimiaki Shirai and Namako Company. Cycilia Sevensheep appears with Makuhari-Fan01's permission. A few other Train Station OC's appear but shall remain nameless to protect this poor dragon. Phillip Edward Markham Jr. and Miyaki Koichi are my OCs.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells", "**singing"

**When You Dance**

_When you dance, do your senses tingle? Then take a chance? – __**Neil Young**_

Oculus, Mundus Magicus

Cycilia watched from the loading platform as the immense whaleship maneuvered closer to the docking tower. Oculus was too inconsequential to merit a port large enough for the occasional cruise vessel to land in. Instead they erected a tower to moor the ships to, equipped with a lift to move passengers up to the boarding ramp. In practice it worked much like the towers commuters climbed to access public transports in the larger, metropolitan areas.

Landing crews used hooks to snare mooring cables and with practiced ease secured the vessel to the tower. Gently floating above the port, the ship seemed as majestic as the great wind whales it mimicked. Few of the largest species still existed; wars, dragons and plain old encroachment in their territory had severely thinned the population. It was more than sobering to think that the two-legged inhabitants of this world could be next.

With a jerk the circular platform rose into the air, lifting the first group to the waiting ship. They were a motley assemblage Cycilia thought as she glanced about. Tall, short, young, old, scaled or smooth-skinned, there seemed to be a little of everything. The couple next to her was a perfect example. The little, mouse-eared fellow in a tuxedo wouldn't have come up to her shoulders on a step stool the reporter wagered. And he was so thin she feared a good wind gust would blow him off the platform. His companion was as large as any three other people. Dressed in a white kimono as big as a tent and head covered by a hood, she couldn't tell anything about the apparent bride, but she wished the groom all the luck in the world if this was their honeymoon.

Soon, she was aboard, had received her cabin assignment and was thoroughly lost while trying to locate said cabin.

"Excuse me, but is this 'C' deck?" she asked another passenger. The human looked to be close to her actual age, maybe a few years older, and Cycilia thought him on the handsome side. 'A bit of a sloppy dresser,' the reporter thought as she noted half of his shirt collar remained tucked underneath a pullover sweater.

"No this is 'B' deck," the stranger replied. "You need to go down one more level."

"Thank you," the woman responded as she began to glance around. Unconsciously her lower lip folded under teeth. "Now where are those stairs?"

"Would you like some help?"

"Oh, I don't want to be a bother."

"It's no bother at all," he told her. "Miss?"

"Sevensheep. Cycilia Sevensheep," the reporter answered. "And you are?"

"Akashi Yuji," the man replied. "Please let me help you with your bags?"

A short while later, Akashi set her luggage down on the floor of her room. Cycilia thanked him again and beckoned the man to bend forward. His confusion grew as she pulled the rest of his collar out and straightened it. "There," she announced. "I'm surprised your wife let you out like that."

His confused expression grew more pronounced. "I'm not married."

"But the ring …," Cycilia said, glancing down at his left hand.

"My wife passed away several years ago."

"I'm so very sorry."

After the gentleman left, Cycilia quickly unpacked her palmtop and waited as the device attached to the ship's Wi-Fi network. Clicking on the remote access icon for KitNews, she was soon scrolling through the clippings from the "incident" at Ostia. Names such as Springfield, Rakan, Takahata and Konoe jumped out frequently, but near the bottom of one story was the name the reporter was searching for, 'Akashi Yuna.'

Continuing to punch the handheld's buttons, the reporter realized how spoiled she had gotten with Kincha's help doing research. Fondly she recalled the unknown assistant who appeared as a mouse sprite on her computer. 'I wonder whatever happened to him, um her, er it.'

--

Teacher's Dorm, Mahora Japan

Konoka watched as her teacher stared at his reflection in the mirror. Markham-sensei's fingers pressed against his forehead, cheeks and jaw as if trying to convince himself that the face looking back wouldn't vanish upon being touched. The pills had worked, well, like magic and years seemed to fall away, leaving a man about college age gazing back. "What do you think sensei?"

"This is simply amazing," an awestruck voice answered. "I really didn't believe something like this was possible."

"That's magic for you," Chamo observed from his perch on the back of the couch.

"So how long will this last?" Phillip asked. "I'd hate to turn into a pumpkin before the ball is over."

"You should be good for six to eight hours," the ermine replied.

"Wait a minute," Konoka interjected. "It only lasted half as long for Negi-kun on his date with Asuna."

"Negi-san went on a date with Asuna-san?" the teacher quietly asked Setsuna.

"Oh it wasn't a real date," the swordswoman whispered back. "That was practice for her date with Takahata-sensei."

"I'm going to have read the Teacher Student Relations Guide again," the man muttered.

"Regressing back to years you've already been is easier than adding years you haven't," Chamo told them. "That's why we could only manage to make Aniki appear 15."

"Anyway you look fine sensei," Konoka added. "Don't you think so Se-chan?"

Setsuna's muttered reply was indecipherable but Konoka noted a pink tinge to the other girl's cheeks. Thinking back to the time when she walked in on her friend massaging their teacher, the chocolate-haired mage wondered if maybe this wasn't such a good idea. She started to recall other incidents when Markham-sensei finished pulling on his jacket and said "If you ladies are ready, let's go."

--

Mahora, Japan

Terra cotta colored stucco covered the restaurant's exterior. Potted junipers lined the pathway leading to the entry where bold, red letters proclaimed the Tuscany Terrace. A nervous young man waited in front for his date's arrival, resisting the urge to pace, choosing instead to rock back and forth as he fretted.

"What if she doesn't show up?" Shirai wondered. "What if something happened?"

A few weekends ago, he and his buddy Hitani had gone clubbing up here and met a couple of cute girls. While Hitani was out on the dance floor with one of them, Shirai sat and talked with the other. Unlike similar situations, the young lady truly listened to what he had to say rather than just politely nodding her head. Though it had been far too short, he had enjoyed that time with her. Never thinking to see the girl again, he was shocked when a request for an o-miai arrived in the mail.

Women wanted the three H's in a mate, so popular wisdom ran: high income, high education and height. Shirai had graduated college, so he supposed that filled the high education piece. Namako wasn't known for great pay, especially for starting programmers, but a project that became a best-seller could springboard him into a more lucrative position. One could argue the potential for income was there.

That left only height, and the young man knew he wasn't going to measure up there. At 169 centimeters, Shirai would never tower over anyone though he was far from being the 'short, fat Hobbit,' one of the residents of Keitaro's inn had called him. But was it possible that after reviewing his qualifications, the girl had reconsidered? A quick glance at his watch revealed five minutes more till the appointed time. 'If she doesn't show, then what?'

Mercifully, three people appeared at the end of the street and walked towards the restaurant. Instantly recognizing his date, he stood entranced at her approach. It wasn't so much that she was beautiful, though he found her so, it was more the girl's personality; she exuded such warmth and affection that one couldn't help but smile in response.

Next to Konoka was her friend from the club, Setsuka or something like that. Though very pretty too, the pale-skinned girl garnered little attention from Shirai. Not so the man who walked alongside the pair. The stranger was a foreigner, not surprising with a major university nearby, and could certainly pass for a student. 'O-miai's aren't supposed to be double-dates are they?' he wondered, anxious at her companions' presence.

"Good evening Konoe-san," he said and then groped for a compliment. "You look lovely this evening."

"Good evening Kimiaki-san," Konoka sweetly replied. "And thank you."

Indicating the girl by her side, she continued, "You remember my friend Setsuna."

"Of course. Pleased to meet you again."

"And this is …"

"Hello," the stranger said, extending his hand out in the manner of westerners. "My name is Phillip."

The newcomer was taller by 7 or 8 centimeters and easily outweighed him by 10 kilos. Taking the offered hand, Shirai shook it and winced slightly at the man's grip. He hoped the American didn't expect to bang knuckles or something else afterwards; though familiar with western music and films, he was hardly an expert on their customs. 'Keitaro would probably know what to do,' Shirai thought. 'He spent a half year in the US after all.'

"Hello, my name is Kimiaki Shirai," he returned the greeting. "Forgive my not knowing, but is Phillip your first or last name?"

A confused expression appeared on the man's face and then he answered, "Phillip is my last name. My first name is Edward, Edward Phillip."

"I believe we have a reservation," Shirai said. "Would you like to step inside?"

If the young man had harbored hopes the other couple would decline and continue on their way, they were cruelly dashed as all four entered the lobby. Behind a podium stood an ebon-skinned fellow who had the most vivid orange eyes he'd ever seen. 'Orange! Who has orange eyes?'

"May I help you?" the maitre d' asked.

"Do you have a reservation for Kimiaki?"

After scanning the list, the man looked back up; his eyes seemed to shine brighter than the surrounding lamps. "Are all four of you together?"

"Yes," Konoka quickly answered.

"It looks like we mistakenly put only two down," the gentleman responded while penciling in a correction. "Please wait a moment and we'll arrange a larger table."

Walking into an office, they heard him shout "Howell you moron! We need a bigger table!" before the door closed and muffled the remainder of the conversation. Moments later, the maitre d' returned and with an unctuous smile escorted them to a table set against the only wall on the terrace.

"Could we be seated away from the wall?" Konoka asked.

The smile never left their hosts' face but Shirai felt the air grow chill, like in a bad novel when a malevolent being enters a room. In an instant the cold vanished and the dark-skinned man led them to a table with a view of the street. The American pulled out Setsuna's chair for her, to the young lady's surprise, and he was quick to copy the other's gesture. He was just sitting down when another voice said "Menus?"

Their waiter was dressed in black slacks and a vest over a white, long-sleeved shirt with a bow tie completing his outfit. The grey bandana wrapped around his head looked out of place, but Shirai decided not to ask; the man was intimidating just setting menus on the table. "Would you like to see the wine list?"

"Uh, sure," he replied and scanned the proffered list. "What do you recommend?"

"We have an excellent house wine."

Not remembering any other names, Shirai asked "How is your burgundy?"

A grimace greeted his question. "It's reasonably good sir," their waiter answered. "But many of our patrons find it not to their taste."

"We'll have the house wine then, and four glasses."

The waiter looked at the two girls who demurely smiled in return and then shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, fine," he remarked and stepped away from the table.

"I understand you're a computer programmer," Konoka said.

"That's right, I work for the Namako Company," the young man answered. "We make computer games."

"I've heard of them," Phillip commented. "Weren't they the creators of 'Battling Dolls' or some such?"

"It was 'Fighting Dolls'," the programmer answered with a slightly embarrassed smile. "We've progressed far beyond those types of games. My group is working on an aerial combat game; it takes you from the briefing room to the cockpit and back."

"I guess you'll have ATO's, MAAPS's and all that?" the other man asked.

"ATOs? MAAPs?"

"Sorry, that would be your Air Tasking Order and Master Air Attack Plan."

Shirai was sure he looked as confused as he felt. "I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about Phillip-san."

"You probably just call them by a different name," the American remarked. "It's all part of defining your battle rhythm."

Battle rhythm? Being in the computer field, Shirai understood technical jargon, what his friend Haitani once referred to as 'geek speak.' However, these terms were totally unfamiliar. Not realizing the mistake being made he asked, "Would you mind explaining what a battle rhythm is?"

For the next several minutes, the two men bent over the table absorbed in their discussion to the exclusion of all else. Shirai frantically scribbled down notes and diagrams on a napkin, trying to capture all of the information being fired as rapidly as a Gatling gun. "Once you complete the Battle Damage Assessment, you start over?"

"No, that gets packaged as part of the overall strategic assessment and then the cycle repeats."

"Fascinating," the programmer commented as he leaned back in the chair. It was then Shirai noticed his date lightly drumming her fingers on the table top while her friend was carefully inspecting under her nails. "Uh oh."

Konoka flashed a dazzling smile at him as their waiter hovered in the background. "Are we ready to order?"

Dinner was enjoyable and by the end of their meal, Shirai thought the girls might have forgiven them for the earlier gaff. A trio of musicians mounted a small stage and soft strains filled the air. "I didn't know Nijuin-sensei played the trumpet", Konoka remarked on the portly musician. "They sound pretty good."

"Aren't those all teachers?" Phillip asked, closely observing the trio.

"Yes, that's Seruhiko-sensei playing bass and Gandolfini-sensei on drums," Setsuna answered. "One from each school level."

"May I have this dance Miss Sakurazaki?" the American asked a suddenly stunned girl.

"Well, I … uh … that is to say …"

"Go ahead Se-chan," her friend said. "I'll be fine."

Hesitantly, the girl stood and followed her escort to the dance floor, glancing back over her shoulder as if afraid to leave the table's safety. The man held her at a distance and began to lead his partner. Setsuna's motions seemed stiff and wooden, but as other couples joined them, she relaxed and a small smile slipped past her guard. Shirai noticed Konoka watching them with a faraway expression on her face. "Would you like to dance Konoe-san?"

"Maybe in a little while," she answered, turning her attention back to him. "Right now, I'd like to talk some more."

"We've been talking about me all evening," he commented. "What about you?"

"There's not really a whole lot to say," Konoka told him. "I was born in Kyoto and came to Mahora for school."

"You're studying at the university?"

"No," she answered, sounding a little surprised. "I'm in high school."

A sense of apprehension budded in the pit of his stomach. "High school huh? I guess you'll graduate this spring?"

Bud began to blossom as she again answered in the negative. "Class of '06 then?" he asked in a rising pitch.

'Oh, no!' he thought as Konoka slowly shook her head. 'Idiot! Idiot! You're nothing but a huge idiot!'

"You didn't know?" the high school student asked and frowned as Shirai took his turn to answer no. "I'm sorry Kimiaki-san. All the others knew how young I am."

"All the others …" Shirai softly repeated. "You mean you've been on more than one o-miai?"

"Several actually," the girl answered. "My grandfather has been arranging these since I turned 12."

Hopes of romance, dreams of marriage and family shimmered like a mirage on the horizon, only to fade on closer inspection. He wanted to say something, anything, but no words bitter, angry, or conciliatory formed as the young man stared straight ahead.

"Grandfather thinks he must find me a dependable husband before he passes away," Konoka explained. "I'm usually matched with a man twice my age, or older; someone who has the big house and fancy car, a proven provider."

"I was so happy that he chose somebody closer to my age," she confided. "Somebody who talked because they wanted to converse instead of impress me with how important they were."

An odd looking man joined the group on the stage, his snow white hair clashed with youthful features. As the trio began playing the next song, a voice joined in. "Darlin', you send me, darlin', you send me," he crooned. "I know you send me, honest you do."

"I understand if you don't want to see me again." Shirai could hear the quaver in her voice. "Would you please dance this once with me?"

Skin felt warm against his palms as they began to move to the music.

"At first I thought it was infatuation, but now it's lasted so long."

Closer they leaned together, and Shirai could see the little highlights among the silken smooth strands of hair. A faint scent of honeysuckle hung about and the man's heart began to beat faster.

"And now I find myself wanting to marry you and take you home."

Could the other couples hear his heart thumping? It seemed so loud to him as it raced. When she laid her head against his chest, Shirai swore that it was pounding like a jackhammer. 'Is three years so long after all?' he silently asked. 'I'll be 27 then, maybe on my way to showing I can provide more than conversation.'

How many girls had given him as much as the time of day? Did he really want to turn this one away?

"I know you send me, honest you do, honest you do, honest you do."

"Why are we dancing so close," Shirai asked and then mentally kicked himself for being stupid.

"It's a slow dance."

"I … I'd really like to see you again Konoe-san."

Konoka nuzzled a cheek against him. "I'd like to see you again," she dreamily murmured in response. "Would next Saturday be too soon?"

--

A warm, spring evening, her boyfriend and his parents' car were the proper ingredients for a night on the town Misa decided as she and said boyfriend walked arm in arm past several clubs and restaurants. It was a drag to have to park so far away from where they wanted to go, but then lots of boys didn't have access to a car at all. That at least was explainable. What wasn't were the girls in her class who didn't have boyfriends. 'Not like getting one is rocket science.'

Her roommate was a perfect example of the problem. Madoka was pretty, a friend you could count on and liked to do crazy stuff with the rest of them, but she'd rather pine in her room over their homeroom teacher than date a boy her own age. 'She's gonna die an old maid at this rate.' Sakurako was another one that mystified her. Why her friends wanted to live like they were in a convent was beyond Misa. Of course she hadn't seen Sakurako since late this morning.

'Maybe she's on a rendezvous with a secret lover,' she theorized. 'Yeah. Like she could keep that a secret.'

Between the school paparazzi and a network of informers that would make a third-world dictator envious, it took no time for a story to make it from one end of the campus to the other. 'Telephone, telegraph, tell Paru-san,' the teen mused. 'We deliver it for you.' Still, the notorious gossip had managed to keep the lid on magic's existence.

Music drifted towards them from a restaurant ahead. "I think that's the new Italian place," her boyfriend mentioned. "Do you want to give it a try?"

"Let's go on to the club," the girl answered. For dinner, that music was okay, but way too sedate when Misa was ready to let her engines rev. As they passed the patio, she glanced at the couples dancing and stopped in her tracks, nearly jerking her companion off his feet. Was that one of her classmates dancing with a man?

The terrace was well lighted in the gathering dusk, and the captain of the cheer squad clearly saw Konoka slowly swaying to the beat in a strange man's arms. 'Maybe there's hope for them after all.'

"What's up Misa?" her boyfriend asked as the girl's eyes travelled across the dance floor and then widened in amazement as they alighted on another couple.

'Setsuna-san!' She couldn't believe that the great, stone-faced maiden was out on a date. Judging by the smile on her classmate's face, she was having a good time too. 'I guess that rumor can be put to rest.'

Setsuna's partner lifted his arm and the girl twirled about and Misa received her third shock of the evening. While she was familiar with the warning about trying to gasp and swallow at the same time, seeing her homeroom teacher's much younger face drove it clear from her mind. In response, the girl doubled over and a fierce fit of coughing overcame her.

Though the boy meant well, she could have done without him slapping her back. Barely able to spare the breath to speak, she croaked, "C'mon."

Out of earshot, she slowed down as her boyfriend continued to pester her with questions, but Misa had a more serious matter to contend with. Mana and sensei's behavior on the class trip had roused her suspicions and tonight confirmed the worst; her friend had fallen for a playboy. 'Now what am I going to do about it?'

--

A nearly full moon hung above the peaks that formed Mahora's southern rim. It's brilliant light flooded the campus grounds, making the electric street lamps unnecessary for those out this evening. The restaurant's maitre d', with his eyes shining nearly as brightly, had offered to call a taxi for them. Since the dormitories were one the same side of the river, the group decided to walk back.

Setsuna's eyes constantly scanned the vicinity though she knew the headmaster had guards posted throughout the city. Not for a second did the girl believe Konoe-sama would allow any less protection for his daughter and heir. Although it hurt not to be considered sufficient, the shinmei ryu understood his reasoning. Thieves, assassins and worse had penetrated Mahora's defenses. Even her classmates had been able to neutralize the school's vaunted shields. A determined individual or a small team could do serious damage before being caught.

As her gaze fell upon her ojou-sama, it lingered for awhile. Their relation was so much more complicated than the normal shukun-shinsegumi. Konoka was her partner and more importantly, her dearest friend. Emotions even stronger than friendship resided in that secret part of the maid's heart where she would wander only rarely. One day perhaps, she would find the courage to explore them, but for now, a demonic invasion was much easier to face.

Watching her partner and the young man brought a smile to the swordswoman's face. Despite predictions to the contrary, there was at least one man in Japan the Associations' future leader found interesting. Though Setsuna was hard put to identify what the attraction might be, Konoka appeared happy, a point which both gladdened and disappointed the bodyguard.

Setsuna's own sense of dissatisfaction continued to hover over her shoulder, like an annoying insect no amount of arm waving would shoo away. Sensei had been charming and attentive, with one notable lapse, and Setsuna had enjoyed the evening but a vital element was missing. There wasn't that spark like what passed between Markham-sensei and Evangeline-san on their date or between Konoka and Kimiaki-san now. A random thought of how nice it would be if someone desired her popped up, only to be swiftly shunted to the side. Protecting the ojou-sama left no time for such indulgences, the shinmei-ryu reminded herself. Yet it continued to teased and tantalized on the edges of awareness.

'Poor sensei,' Setsuna thought, considering her teacher's plight. He truly cared for Evangeline-san and to not be with her, even if it meant keeping her safe, had to hurt. Perhaps it would help if Markham-sensei was introduced to some other unattached women. But what did a swordswoman know of such things? She was a shinsegumi not a nakodo. Her escort's voice interrupted her musings.

"Should we consider tonight a success?" Phillip asked.

"I think so."

--

Tokyo, Japan

Awoken by ringing, Tsuwabuki pulled a robe across her shoulders and ambled towards the telephone. "Hello?" she fuzzily said.

"Grandmother!" an excited voice cried, causing the old woman to pull the receiver back from her ear.

"Shirai-kun? Whatever is the matter?"

"I'm sorry for calling so late," her grandson apologized, "but I had to talk to someone about tonight."

"Tonight was your o-miai wasn't it?" she asked. "How did it go?"

"It was wonderful grandmother," Shirai replied, sounding every bit like the little boy she used to watch on afternoons while his parents were still at work. "We had dinner at an Italian restaurant and danced afterwards. And then I walked her home."

"Where are you now?"

"I'm on the train heading back to Tokyo."

"Did you kiss her goodnight?"

"Well no," the voice replied in a tone that seemed surprised by the question. "It was a first date after all."

Tsuwabuki had to smile at his response. For all that he was a college graduate and working for a living, much of the young boy she helped to raise remained. "When is the wedding?"

"Not for a while," Shirai answered. "She needs to finish school first."

"So who is this mystery girl of yours grandson?"

"Her name is Konoka. Isn't that a beautiful name?" he gushed enthusiastically. "Konoe Konoka."

Thought froze at the young man's words, only to start again as Shirai's frantic voice asked," Grandmother? Are you still there?"

"Yes Shirai-kun, I'm here," the old woman responded. "Did you say Konoe?"

After replying yes, he apologized again and promised to call later at a more reasonable time. She placed the receiver back in its cradle and pulled the robe closer about. Many years ago, when her father was the commandant of the boy's school, Tsuwabuki lived at Mahora. She had planted a garden, attended school and lost her sister in the shadows of its European-style buildings. A bone-deep chill settled over her as the woman considered the implications of renewing contact with the school, and its possible costs.

"What are you up to Ko-kun?" she whispered to the boy who still roamed about her memories. "Wasn't Say-chan enough?"

--

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil

"This is incredible," Koichi thought aloud as eyes slowly scanned the panorama before him. A wide assortment of buildings crowded together from the foot of the hill the gunman stood upon down to a blue-green sea. Through the hazy sky, he noted the incongruity of tin shacks huddled up against mansion walls. Half nude children, kicking a ball made of cast off rags, scampered out of the way as a chauffeured Mercedes Benz blasted its horn. On a nearby hilltop stood an enormous statue of a robe-clad man with his arms spread wide as if to embrace the entire city.

Yesterday the man had been a prisoner in a San Francisco jail; today the former Yakuza thug was a freeman in some sunny, South American city. Yesterday magic had been part of the fairy tales you told to brats; today magic made those brats powerful, but not unbeatable. As long as wizards still had to drop their trousers, there would always be a point when they were vulnerable.

From behind, he heard the crunch of feet treading over scattered rocks and brush. Turning around, the man watched as his new employer approached. "Homura-san," he bowed in acknowledgement.

A glossy photograph was clutched in the girl's fist. "These are the ones," the fire starter announced as she held the picture out to him. It resembled something from one of the racier shonen manga, showing several school girls in various stages of undress. Two of the students he recognized from the previous summer, and another had been one of the recent hostages at the airport. The remaining three girls looked unremarkable save for the facial tattoos one sported.

"Am I supposed to take care of all six?" Koichi asked.

"Only the five in front," Homura told him. "Don't concern yourself over the white-haired girl."

"Anything I should know about them?"

"The blonde has been awarded a black belt," his employer answered. "The tall red-head and the girl wearing glasses both have a magical contract with the same mage and can summon artifacts, but none possess any appreciable magic skill."

"Magical artifacts?"

"You'll be briefed completely before you leave," Homura assured him. "Any other concerns?"

"I'm worried that my old gang might interfere if they find out I'm around."

"Your former Kumicho knows who you are working for," he was informed. "There will be no interfering, not while you're in my employ."

Koichi didn't miss the unvoiced threat of what would happen should he not be in her employ. 'I guess that's it then."

He noticed that the young mage's gaze was drawn to the statue. Without being prompted, she began to talk. "When I first saw that statue, I wondered because I had heard mages weren't openly known about," Homura said. ""Then I learned he wasn't mage at all, but a teacher."

In the 24 hours the thug had known the girl, she had only scowled. Now her lips curled upwards in a smile that sent a shiver down the killer's spine. "What a strange world you live in Miyaki-san," she observed. "Where else could a man who spoke of peace and loving one's enemy be put to death as a danger to the state?"

--

**A/N: Okay gents, if you go away with only one point from this chapter, let it be the following: never ignore your dates to talk sports, shop, online games or whatever with the other guys. This is such a guaranteed disaster that a warning should be tattooed to the back of your hand right below never answer "does this make me look fat?". How do I know? Well I, uh, had this friend and believe me, was he ever sorry.**

**Chapter heading and title are from the song "When You Dance I Can Really Love" by Neil Young. The song performed at the restaurant is "You Send Me" by Sam Cooke.**

**Shukun – master**

**Shinsegumi – bodyguard**

**Nakodo – one who goes between the families during the miai process**

**Kumicho – head of a Yakuza family**

**My thanks to fellow train station authors The Ansem Man, Brightsyde and Tsutomo Teruko for allowing me to misuse and abuse their characters.**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: For not having a lot of free time, I seem to be getting a lot of writing done. Probably stems from not wanting to be out in freezing weather. **

**Ken Akamastu owns Negima and its characters. Clyde Metro belongs to Midnight Sleeper, and while reading 'Her Wish' is not required, it might explain why he's in that position. One day Midnight will continue with Clyde-san's misadventures, until then we'll make do with cameos. The Harbinger was introduced back in 'Markham Chronicles Negima' and both Doubek and Phillip Markham Jr. are my OCs.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells", **_memories_

**Wall of Illusion**

_We were talking about the space between us all and the people who hide themselves behind a wall of illusion, never glimpse the truth_ – _**George Harrison**_

--

Vairocana, Mundus Magicus

Miyazu sat at his desk watching as current business reports scrolled across the bottom of his computer screen. A shipment 5000 units had left for Elfenhaft, while a new customer in Nyandom had ordered another 7200 units. While he had purposefully kept his operation modest, the man was still surprised to be turning a profit. 'Not bad for a cover,' he though as 3000 more units were sent to Brontopolis.

Eighteen years ago, Kitiwara Miyazu set up a company to import chemical fertilizers from the Old World and resell them to farmers unable to afford enchantments to keep their fields producing. No one here wanted to build an expensive factory that spewed noxious fumes and produced hazardous residue. Far preferable to let them do that on the other side and purchase their excess. 'It isn't like they have a shortage of fertilizer after all.'

Of course, the businessman's real purpose was to provide a front for the Cabal Magicus to transfer goods between the two worlds using the Vairocana Gateport, which was rife with corrupt officials willing to "look the other way" if the price was right. Over the years, a few got too greedy and had to be dealt with, but on whole this had turned into a satisfactory arrangement.

A disk set into his desk began flashing in warning. Miyazu's fingers quickly stroked several keys and the monitor displayed feeds from security cameras in response. Four figures garbed in scarlet robes and hoods strode through the halls towards his office. "Damn! Justiciars!" he thought as fingers furiously typed in commands on the keyboard. Hunter programs began seeking tagged files and annihilated traces of their existence. They would soon turn on the other data, devouring them like an army of voracious cats let loose on a room full of mice. The loss of data would be catastrophic to his business, but being caught was far worse.

As the door to his office opened, the businessman slid open a drawer and grabbed the sealed parchment inside. The four, faces hidden by blood red masks, stepped through the doorway and faced him. Due to the presence of so many demonic beings in Vairocana, normal law enforcement wouldn't work. Justiciars were empowered not only to arrest, but to mete out justice on the spot, serving as judge, jury and executioner. Submit or die were the only choices they offered.

A black baton was pointed in his direction as its wielder spoke. "Kitiwara Miyazu," he said in a voice as cold and pitiless as the north wind. "You have been charged as an accessory to attempted murder. Come with us."

A glance at the computer screen revealed the hunters had not yet done their work. 'Damn!' he mentally swore. 'I need more time!' But more time was something Miyazu didn't have. Reluctantly, he broke the seal and a menacing, black cloud billowed from the folded square of parchment. The robed men jumped back as the demon coalesced into its solid form. Light reflected from coal black skin that rippled with muscles. A bull-like snout jutted out from its face and sable-colored horns thrust out from either side of the creature's head. The minotaur bellowed its challenge and attacked.

In the meantime, Miyazu touched another disk and a section of wall behind him swung back, allowing him to roll the office chair back through it. Running through the escape tunnel, he estimated that a D class demon would keep even four Justiciars busy enough to make his escape. Another hatch slid open into a maze of alleys behind the warehouse. Safety was just a few steps away when he heard the click of shoes echo off the surrounding walls. Expecting more of the crimson robed men, Miyazu was surprised to face a man wearing a grey suit. The stranger's hair and beard were a snowy-white color and a fedora rested atop his head. Tucked under his arm was something about the shape and size of a small briefcase.

"Mister Kitiwara," he politely called. "I need to speak with you on an urgent matter."

In response, the businessman pulled a wand from his pocket and leveled it at the stranger. Without incantation, seven fiery arrows shot towards the man in the suit, who merely smiled in return. Faster than Miyazu could track, the white-haired man leapt high above the arrows that impacted against the wall, leaving blackened spots behind.

Iron links clanked as the old man pulled a leather bound book from under his arm and shouted "**Aperio!**" Covers snapped open and pages rustled on their own. 'Shit!' the businessman mentally screamed. 'Not him.'

"Kitiwara Miyazu, on the orders of the Council of Mages, you will present yourself to answer their questions regarding the attempt on Speaker Karkolova's life. **Persecutus!**" Globes of light, green, gold and white flew from glowing pages and surrounded him as they whirled about. Miyazu could hear wind howl as his feet lifted from the ground and he began to spin about. Faster and faster he tumbled, closer and closer he drew to the book. Brighter and brighter grew the light pouring forth from the stranger's artifact. A piercing scream rang in the dark alleyway, only to suddenly stop as he disappeared into the pages.

Doubek Valkova glanced at the page, no longer blank. Appearing in the style of an illuminated manuscript, a man's fear-stricken face stared back. Below the picture, the suspect's name, crimes accused of and details of arrest were carefully printed in Latin. "**Adoperio,**" the Harbinger recited and the covers slammed shut. He tucked the volume back under his arm as four men dressed in tattered, crimson robes clambered from the escape tunnel. Like silent wraiths they regarded him, and Doubek nodded in acknowledgement. Together, they walked back into the tunnel's mouth and were swallowed by its blackness. The sound of heels clicking floated into the alley and slowly faded away.

--

Student Dormitory, Mahora Japan

Black fur stood out starkly against white sheets as yellow-green eyes regarded the human clutching a pillow to her chest. "Negi-sensei," the girl softly called. Her grip tightened as she began to rub against the bedding, letting out a long, slow moan of pleasure. Rising from the covers, the cat cautiously approached Ayaka's face and its tiny, pink tongue licked her nose. "Not there silly," iincho-san giggled in response. "Try here instead," she chided her lover and then puckered lips together.

Still on the cusp between sleep and waking, the class rep felt something small and rough, like sandpaper, scrap against her upper lip as the boy kissed her. Eyes flew open and uncomprehendingly stared at twin orbs floating in a midnight dark sea. Ayaka bolted upright and her yell of "Damn Cat!" echoed against walls painted pastel blue. The feline had backed up at the girl's movement and fled across the room at her shout.

A pair of yellow-green eyes peered at her from under Sakurako's dresser as Ayaka rose and pulled on a thin, white robe over her nightgown. Anger towards her roommate's pet for having interrupted such an enjoyable dream faded as she slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers and padded towards the bedroom door. A quick glance back showed Sakurako's bed had been undisturbed and briefly she wondered where the girl had spent the night. 'Probably over with Misa and Madoka.'

Before middle-school, Ayaka's classmates were forever being invited over to her family's mansion. But that stopped shortly after she moved into the dorms as home became her refuge when the other girls' antics were too much to put up with. Thinking back to yesterday when she hosted Negi-sensei at her house, the girl realized that it had been ages since any of them had been over. 'Not since Asuna and Konoka-san brought sensei over last year,' she thought. 'Maybe I should change that.'

A strange sight greeted her as the class rep walked out of the bedroom. Her roommate, still dressed in shorts and tee-shirt, was fast asleep on the couch, but that wasn't the strange part. Sakurako's head rested against a boy's shoulder. In appearance, Ayaka would have guessed him to be about their age. His blonde hair wasn't long enough to reach the shoulders of the blue, maintenance worker's coveralls he wore. Stitched in yellow, roman letters over his right breast was the name 'Metro.'

For a moment, Ayaka saw red. 'I'll report this,' she silently seethed. 'I'll call the police.' Turning towards the phone, the rep paused. 'And then what?'

Images of the young man being arrested and fired, her roommate expelled from school flooded her head. Rules were clear on who could and couldn't be in the dorms, but was this what she wanted? Prior to the trip, Markham-sensei had explained her responsibilities as the class leader. Enforcing rules was a large part of their conversation.

"_Anyone can blindly adhere to the rules Miss Yukihiro," her teacher had said. "But leaders look ahead and try to weigh the outcomes of their action. Sometimes, the result you get for enforcing the rules is worse than what you're trying to avoid."_

"_You know your classmates far better than I ever will," the man continued. "I'm counting on you to use that experience and exercise good judgment. Don't shy away from correcting a problem, but consider what the consequences will be before you drop a hammer on someone." _

Slipping quietly over to the couch, she gently shook the boy's shoulder. His eyes opened and Ayaka raised a finger to her lips and motioned towards the door. After easing out from underneath Sakurako's head, he followed the class rep into the hall. Running a hand through his hair, he looked somewhat embarrassed. "I owe you an explanation."

"None is needed."

Across the hall, a door opened and Asakura, wearing only a towel, stepped outside. "Morning," the reporter said and then noticed the boy.

The maintenance worker's jaw dropped as eyes feasted on the vision before him. Suddenly he gasped as hand flew to his face to stop a torrent of blood gushing from his nose. "Oh no!" he cried out.

"Quick," Ayaka shouted. "We need something to staunch the blood."

"What do you expect me to do?" Kazumi asked. "Give him my towel?"

Ayaka ducked back into her room and fetched a washcloth to slap against the boy's face. A few minutes later, the bleeding had stopped. "Feeling better Metro-san?" she asked.

"Yeah, thanks," he relied then looked at her in surprise. "How did you know my name?"

"It's on your name tag."

"Oh, right."

A predatory grin spread across the reporter's face. "So what brings you out at this time of the morning Metro-san?" Kazumi asked and a chill ran down the class rep's back in response. "Exactly what sort of service call were you making?"

Imagined headlines sprang to mind as Ayaka repressed a shudder. "Thank you for looking at our refrigerator," she said. "That noise was beginning to drive me crazy."

"You're, uh welcome miss."

"I appreciate you coming over so early too."

"No problem," he responded, a small grin forming. "If there's nothing else, I need to report back."

With the sound of his footsteps echoing from the stairwell, Asakura cocked an eyebrow at the class rep. "Refrigerator?"

"Refrigerator," Ayaka replied and smiled so sweetly it was a wonder cavities didn't form on the spot. Both girls' head jerked to the side as the buzz of a smoke alarm floated down the hall.

--

Once more the pair lay in each other's arms as an ocean of green stretched out in all directions. Grass covered hills undulated like gentle, wind-born waves while a deep blue sky arched high overhead. His breath felt hot against her skin as kisses covered her face and neck. Madoka moaned softly as teeth lightly nipped the spot where neck joined shoulder and involuntarily her body pushed harder against the man.

Underneath the World Tree, this is what the girl wanted as arms had held her tightly. Yet isn't there more she asked. Part of the teen drew back in fear from the question but another shivered in anticipation. 'I'm not ready,' that fearful part protested. 'I can't even tell him how I feel.'

'What's stopping you?' her other self asked.

Lips travelled back up her neck to just under the jaw. "Sensei," she started to say but was interrupted as his mouth found hers. Madoka placed a hand upon either side of his head and pushed slightly away. "Sensei, I …" the words pounded in her mind but the girl's mouth seemed unresponsive, "I lo…"

Taking a deep breath, she tried once more, "I …"

Eyes opened as the room's smoke detector went off with a loud buzz. Out of the bed she jumped and immediately crashed to the floor. Madoka glanced back to find a sheet twisted about her ankle. A grey-white cloud floated out of the kitchen and gathered under the eaves. "Misa," she called out. "Are you alright?"

"I'm, cough, fine," her roommate replied. "I'm trying to, cough, open the, cough, kitchen window."

Quickly she slipped her foot from the bed sheet and hurried into the tiny kitchen just as Misa pushed the window out. Smoke hung in the air, thick enough to irritate her throat. Upon the counter lay two coal-black lumps that had once been slices of bread. "I think we need a new toaster," the other girl said.

They heard the front door flung open as Ayaka's worried voice called out, "Is everyone okay?"

"We're fine," Madoka answered. "Just have a problem with our toaster."

She glanced into the living area to find the class rep, dressed in nightgown and robe, with Asakura, who looked to be on her way to the bath. "I guess it isn't the day for kitchen appliances," the reporter cryptically remarked. "Can we shut that thing off?"

Ayaka threw a blood-stained rag to Madoka. "Get that wet," the class rep ordered as she pulled a chair under the detector. Standing atop, she pressed the reset button as the sounds of more doors opening and feet tramping sounded from the hall.

The teen rinsed out the cloth and brought it back just as class 1B's president stuck her head in. "What's going on?" she demanded.

"Everything's under control Mikami-san," Ayaka answered as she wrapped the damp towel around the plastic box. "A malfunctioning toaster was the culprit."

"You'll need to file a safety report," the other leader reminded her.

"I'm well aware of my responsibilities Mikami-san."

"I'm sure you are Yukihiro-san," the girl replied in a mildly acerbic tone. Turning back to the students gathered in the hallway, she ordered, "Clear out. There's nothing to see here. Just class 1A at it again."

"What an idiot," Madoka heard the blonde girl mutter as she stepped down.

"I'm sorry for causing trouble iincho-san," she apologized.

"It's only a piece of paper so don't worry," Ayaka replied and then turned to Misa. "Kakizaki-san, have you found a place for our class party?"

"We were too late to reserve one of the good spots," her friend answered. "We're stuck with the rec room in the basement."

The class rep's face took on a thoughtful expression while mulling that news over. "As an alternative, how about having it at my house?" the girl offered.

"Are you serious?"

"It's been ages since you've been over," Ayaka replied. "And some of the class has never been."

"I'd like to invite Negi-sensei," the class rep added.

"I'm sure no one would object," Misa responded. "I'll let everyone know … and thank you iincho-san."

There were times when the class president could be a pain in the neck, but others when the girl could be the soul of generosity Madoka thought. 'I guess we're all that way.'

--

"And that's what I saw," Misa confided as she and Sakurako made their way to the dorm's bath.

"Are you sure it was him?" the other girl asked.

"He looked a lot younger but I'm sure it was sensei," she answered. "How am I going to tell Madoka?"

"Do you have to tell Madoka?"

"Of course I have to tell her that the guy she likes is a no good bum," Misa replied. "What kind of friend would I be otherwise?"

Sakurako scratched her head as she considered the question. "Shouldn't you wait until you know for sure what's going on? It may not have been a date?"

"They were dancing in a restaurant downtown. What else could it have been?"

"We thought Negi-kun and Konoka-san were on a date too," her friend reminded her. "They were just shopping for the class trip."

"But how do I find out?" Misa countered. "I can't just go up to sensei and ask 'so have you dated any students lately'?"

"So ask Setsuna-san or Konoka-san," her fellow cheerleader responded. "We already upset Madoka once by jumping to conclusions."

"You're right," she admitted and then fell into thought. "Maybe …"

There were many phrases that made the orange-haired teen flinch when she heard them. Among them were 'this won't hurt a bit' and 'trust me'. Another was when Misa said 'maybe' in that manner. "Maybe what?" Sakurako asked, half dreading the answer.

"Maybe Madoka doesn't need to be warned as much as coached."

"I'm not following."

"She's known Markham-sensei for a month now and hasn't got anywhere with him," the brown-haired girl said. "We need to find an opportunity to bring them together and give her a push start before she loses him to someone else."

"Um …" the other girl hesitated, unsure how to proceed. Sakurako usually went along with whatever schemes Misa cooked up, but their friend's anger after being spied upon was too recent for comfort. "Are you sure about this?"

"Of course I am," she answered with all the confidence in the world. "Trust me."

Ignoring the other girl's silence, Misa stepped into the bath and greeted several of her classmates. After a round of "good mornings" she dove under the water and resurfaced. 'It's so unfair,' the teen thought while enviously gazing at her classmate Chizuru. 'Girls like her don't have to do anything special to turn heads.' Meanwhile she invested substantial effort in looking attractive; paying attention to her figure, hair and complexion was time consuming, but worth it when the boys noticed.

Having finished rinsing, she squirted a bit of body wash into her hand. While working up a lather, Misa pondered her roommate's situation. Sensei had shown an interest in Mana-san, which wasn't difficult to understand; the age on her school id might read 15, but the sharpshooter could easily pass for 20. However, the teacher had also been out with Setsuna-san and the only similarity those two girls shared was dark hair. 'It couldn't be that simple, could it?'

'What else do they have in common?' Both girls had entered the martial arts tournament during last summer's festival and both spent hours practicing with a weapon. The tall marksman always struck her as dangerous and a person who carries a sword all the time would have to be as well.

'Markham-sensei had been in the military and somebody mentioned he's a combat hero,' Misa continued with her line of reasoning. 'Could he like the action-adventure type of woman?"

Casting Madoka in that sort of role was difficult. First, she tried to imagine her friend as a nun with a shaved head, dealing lethal blows left and right. 'Not doing it.' Quickly she sped through other movie roles: a katana wielding bride in a yellow jump suit, a shorts and tee-shirt clad adventuress armed with a brace of pistols, even a vampire hunter wearing a long coat and wide-brimmed hat with an endless supply of holy water and wooden stakes; none of it worked. 'Madoka's doomed.'

'But wait, maybe just being active is enough,' she considered. 'What does she do that's active? Uh, there's cheerleading …'

After racking her brains for several minutes, the teen was about to give up in despair when another thought came to her. If memory served correctly, Ayaka's home had a huge game room. Surely there would be something to steer those two towards.

--

Yukihiro Estate, Mahora Japan

"Where are we going Miss Kugimiya," Phillip asked as he followed his student through the halls of the mansion. Unlike the Kansai Temple with its traditional wooden beams and paper walls, Ayaka's home was built according to western ideas and struck the American as more like a Mediterranean villa. Between the two, it was a tossup as to which was grander in scale.

"It's a surprise," was all that the girl would answer. Stopping before a closed door, Madoka told him to "wait here" while she slipped inside. A few minutes later, his student reemerged and beckoned him to follow. The room was twice the size of their classroom, and paneled in mahogany. Heavy drapes had been pulled back to let sunlight in. Despite its opulence, Phillip paid the decor scant attention as his attention fixed upon a grand piano set at the far end.

"Is that the surprise?" he asked, noting the pleased smile on her face.

"According to Ayaka-san that piano was built in Paris over 170 years ago," the girl excitedly told him. "The story is that this was the piano Franz Liszt used during a musical duel with a rival."

"That's some tale," Phillip remarked. "Any chance its true?"

"Considering recent events sensei, nothing seems too farfetched," Madoka answered. "Now the best part of the surprise is that Ayaka-san has given permission for you to play."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

Wasting no time, Phillip was soon seated before the piano. "Is something wrong?" his student asked as he stared at the keys.

"It seems sacrilegious not to play something classical, but the only classical piece I learned was 'Brahms Lullaby'."

"So play something you know."

"Something I know huh," the teacher repeated as the beginnings of a grin appeared. Fingers pressed down on keys and clear, rich tones flowed from the instrument. Many years ago, Phillip had once heard a violinist play a Stradivarius; yet in all honesty, he couldn't tell what the difference in quality had been. Not so in this case.

"What song is that," Madoka asked. "It sounds familiar."

"Probably because they play it on that oldies station too," he responded. "The title is 'Blackbird' and its one of my favorite Beatles' songs."

"Oh," she replied. Madoka continued to listen until he finished playing. "Markham-sensei, there's something I want to tell you."

Phillip turned towards her. The girl's face was serious, as if what she had to say was of great importance to her. "What is it Miss Kugimiya?"

"Mister Markham, I l…" she started but didn't get to finish as the door flew open and her two friends strode in.

"So this is where you got off to," Misa exclaimed. "I've been looking all over for you both."

"Just a moment Miss Kakizaki," the teacher told her. "What were you saying Madoka-san?"

"I … I really like that song."

--

Though not the same as their own tropical paradise, class 1A was having a blast at the Yukihiro mansion. Several had wandered to different parts of the main house, but most were gathered around one of a dozen or so game systems. Ako was taking on all comers with the Dance Dance Revolution as Makie and Misora squared off in a virtual boxing match. Mana and the Narutaki twins were an adventuring party challenging the Dark Lord's minions while Natsumi took the checkered flag in her first grand prix race.

In searching through the video collection, Yuna had found a cache of disks for a movie series she hadn't seen before. She walked through the rooms with mounting frustration as no one wanted to watch the films with her. "It's not like they use real blood," the dark-haired student complained. "Corn syrup mixed with latex, how scary is that?"

Wedged on a couch between Nodoka and Ku, Negi sat frantically punching buttons and moving the game's joystick. On the screen a turtle-shelled dragon battled a pink blob with shoes. The dragon's fist thrust forward, but the blob twirled out of the path.

"Too slow," Ku crowed as the blob delivered a kick to its opponent's head, knocking loose a batch of coins. The Chinese student pressed down on a button and the blob's mouth opened and sucked the coins in with vacuum-like efficiency. "I like this game bozu."

Punching another button released a blast of air at the dragon, and though Negi valiantly fought, his character was blown away. "You win again Master Ku," the boy sighed.

"Negi-sensei," Nodoka said, "will we be able to spend any time together tomorrow?"

"Of course we will," he promised.

"But we practice tomorrow, right?" Ku asked.

"But Master Ku," he started to protest.

"You went to Kyoto with Setsuna-san, spent all Monday with Ayaka-san, and party now," his master reminded him. "How you expect to improve?"

"Hey guys," Yuna piped up causing heads to turn about. "Are any of you interested in watching some movies?"

"What kind?" Ku asked.

"They're part of a series called 'Child's Play'," she replied. "I think they're horror."

"Is that where a doll comes to life after a murder's spirit possesses it?" Nodoka asked.

"That's the one," Yuna answered and then watched them glance at each other and then as one turn towards her.

"No thank you," "Sorry," and "Some other time" came their response.

"What is with everybody?"

"Did you ask Yue-san?" Negi suggested. "I think she's in the library."

"Already tried. She said the plot struck too close to home."

"I think Haruna went that way," Nodoka said as she pointed out the other doorway.

Moving down the corridor, Yuna discovered the class gossip next to a partially opened door, with head bent low. Before she could speak, the other girl motioned her to silence. As she stepped closer, Yuna heard voices on the opposite side.

"Um, would you mind raising your hips a little higher?" Madoka asked. The cheerleader's voice sounded as if she was straining.

"Oh, sure," their homeroom teacher replied. "Is that better?"

"Yes. Much."

"You know Mister Markham," Sakurako exclaimed, "you're being far too polite."

"Hey, this is difficult enough," Madoka responded, "without listening to the audience."

Yuna noted Haruna wore an ear to ear grin. "What's going on?" she whispered.

"What does it sound like?" Haruna whispered back.

Before she could answer, Misa spoke up. "Are you okay sensei?" the pep squad leader asked. "Your face is flushed."

"I haven't done something like this in awhile," he answered. "I'm pretty rusty."

"You're doing fine," Misa assured him.

"Yeah, you've lasted a long time already," Sakurako added.

"Do you mind going a little faster?" Madoka asked in an annoyed voice. "I can't stay in this position forever."

"If you're too worn out Madoka, I'll take your place," Sakurako offered.

"You don't mean?" Yuna asked as her face began shading into pink. Haruna only nodded her head in response.

'What should I do?' the basketball player wondered. 'My teacher is … with my classmate … right here.'

"After your finished with this one sensei," Sakurako said, "how about taking on both Misa and I next?"

"This can't be happening," Yuna softly groaned as she pressed a hand against her forehead, bringing a hurried "shhh" in response.

"That's a little too ambitious I'm afraid," Phillip panted.

"You'll be fine after a short rest," Sakurako replied.

Again they heard Madoka's voice, more insistent this time, "Please hurry."

"Okay. Okay," Misa said. "Right hand red."

The pair heard a hand slap against plastic, followed by Madoka's complaint, "Can't twist … like that … I'm … not … a pretzel," and then a thump as the girl's shoulders hit the mat.

Saotome fell to the floor and began pounding her fists while Yuna's face turned a more brilliant red. Her blush was no longer fueled by embarrassment as she glared daggers at the school's notorious rumormonger. "You … you knew," hissed from between clenched teeth.

--

Credits rolled across the TV screen as Yuna pressed the eject button on the remote control. Haruna was comfortable ensconced on the recliner and didn't seem inclined to move though closest to the DVD player, so the ballplayer got up from her spot next to Zazie and walked over. She was still steamed over falling for the mangaka's little joke. Madoka obviously had a crush on their homeroom teacher, as Asuna did for Takahanta-sensei, and several did for Negi-kun. However, the short-haired cheerleader was pretty level headed and Yuna felt foolish for actually believing her classmate would make out with sensei. Now Misa on the other hand …

"Are you going to put in the next movie?" Haruna asked.

"I'm working on it," she testily replied.

"How's your training going?"

"What training?"

"Oh come on," the class gossip replied. "Everybody knows you're Tatsumiya-san's apprentice. So what mission are you training for: infiltration, search and destroy, coup d'état?"

"And I'm told I have an active imagination," Yuna scoffed. "Mana-san's just giving me some tips in case I'm dropped into the middle of another battlefield."

"You were dragging around a lot last week for tips," the other girl pointed out.

"Hey, I didn't fall asleep in class."

"What can I say?" Haruna responded. "McDowell-san set a rough pace."

Stunned, Yuna stared at the glasses wearing girl. "McDowell-san? You're pulling my leg again."

"No I'm not. McDowell-san was even stronger that Negi-bozu," the gossip remarked. "Ask Rainyday-san if you don't believe me."

Poker face firmly affixed, the white-haired acrobat nodded in affirmation.

"We're training because we could be attacked at anytime," Haruna continued. "Just like they were at Kyoto."

"What happened at Kyoto?" Yuna asked, noting that Zazie looked as surprised as she by that tidbit.

"Well …," Haruna started and then glanced about the room. Dropping her voice lower, she explained how enemies had planned to kidnap Konoka and prevent interference by encasing Asuna in stone and poisoning everyone else. "But Markham-sensei jumped in front of her and was hit by the spell. Asuna then summoned that big sword from the tournament and busted him out."

As Yuna visualized sensei throwing himself in front of his student, her conversation with Mana about partners came to mind. According to the dark-haired mercenary, partners sacrificed all for their ministers, even to the point of laying down their lives. 'Would I do that for someone else?'

Motivated by her mother's example and her own desire for adventure, Yuna had jumped into the hidden world her parents had shielded their daughter from. Yet none of it had seemed real, not the festival nor the Magic World, the battle in the mall or even the fight with the witiko; all of it struck her as an elaborate, online RPG. People have been hurt and some have died she realized. Blood was on her hands as well and this path, should she continue, would eventually lead to more.

Did her mother face this choice? Did Akashi Rikku accept this as a condition of being a partner and blindly followed her husband? Yuna's head began to ache from the questions rattling around inside. How she wished her mother was here to talk to, but the woman was far beyond the sound of a daughter's voice.

Haruna's question interrupted her thoughts. "So how about it Akashi-san? What are you training for?"

A good question that. Examining her reasons left Yuna feeling they were the selfish whims of a spoiled child. She craved excitement and the rush of beating an opponent, to stand before the crowds and acknowledge their cheers, but most of all to follow in her mother's footsteps.

A quick glance confirmed that Zazie was also watching her, watching and waiting for the answer. Even across the room, the white-haired girl's quiet strength steadied her. Yuna chose her next words with uncharacteristic care. "My mother gave me a legacy," she said. "I'm training so I can carry it on."

--

**A/N: Another chapter concludes, and hopefully Yuna has gotten a clue. Now if only Misa would stop being so helpful.**

**Chapter title and heading are from 'Within You Without You' by George Harrison. 'Blackbird' was written by band mates Paul McCartney and John Lennon. 'Child's Play' and its sequels are horror or horror/comedy depending on your mood.**

**Words used:**

**Aperio - Open**

**Persecutus - Execute**

**Adoperio – Close**

**Franz Liszt, composer of 'The Hungarian Rhapsody Number 2' among other pieces, was a celebrated pianist in Europe. Sort of the Jimi Hendrix or Eddie Vedder of his day. In 1837 he had a 'friendly' competition with up and coming musician Sigismond Thalberg. While their match was deemed a draw, I think it safe to say Franz won the war for recognition.**

**The Justiciars are based the Emperor's personal guards in "The Return of the Jedi," but dropped in as opponents for a Dungeons and Dragons party. For awhile, the cry of "Submit or Die!" was more prevalent around the table than "nobody expects a Spanish Inquisition" but didn't reach the level of "Run away!" **

**Until the next chapter, keep warm. **


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: Since I'm one of those writing tears, I might as well take advantage of it. Action starts to shift to the Magic World as those in Mahora take a well deserved breath. Yeah, right! In response to your question Ansem_Man, does this work?**

**Negima and its characters are the property of Ken Akamatsu. Cycilia Sevensheep appears with the permission of MakuhariFan_01. Other OCs are my creations.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**

**The End of the World**

_It must be impossible to live without hurting anyone –__** Ayumi Hamasaki**_

--

Teacher's Dormitory, Mahora Japan

Today marked the one month anniversary of Phillip's arrival at Mahora. During that time he had been exposed to more danger than in his entire military career. Creatures he had thought mere legends proved to be real as the teacher was introduced to the hidden world of magic. For reasons the man still didn't understand, the task of preparing 30 first year, high school students for an expected battle rested on his shoulders. Now if only he knew what to prepare for.

Students Ayase, Saotome and Miyazaki were all intelligent, though grades didn't necessarily reflect that fact. More importantly, they were members of the Library Exploration Club, possessing desperately needed skills. "Ladies," he began, "the headmaster has already informed you of the situation we face; now it's up to us to make plans."

Phillip glanced at the three girls, assuring himself they were paying attention. "The first thing to do is gather information on our enemy and their tactics," the former sergeant told them. "According to the headmaster's sources, various demons are expected to be part of any assault on Mahora."

"Where did this information come from?" Haruna asked.

"I can't tell you without possibly compromising his sources."

Yue pursed her lips together and then asked, "Do we know what kind of demons or how many?"

"No."

"Do we know when the attack is coming?" Nodoka wanted to know.

"Only that it will be within the year," Phillip answered. "My guess is it will be sooner rather than later."

"What do you need us to do?" Nodoka asked.

"I want you three to start checking the library for records of demonic attacks," he replied. "Look for any information on how they attack so we can develop a defensive strategy."

Haruna raised the next question. "When are we supposed to do this research?"

"This will be an afterschool activity under the guise of the English Culture Research Club," the teacher answered. "School is still the priority, but the headmaster has agreed to curtail other activities to give you as much time as possible."

"Does that mean no more evening patrols?" Haruna asked and resisted letting out a whoop as Phillip nodded in confirmation.

Yue's voice sounded hopeful as she asked, "Does this mean we can cut back on homework?"

"Not a chance Miss Ayase," the teacher responded, "If Armageddon were tomorrow morning, your finals would be scheduled for this afternoon. By the way how is that four page paper coming along? It's due Friday."

"It's progressing," the short statured student answered. "When do we get started on this project?"

"The sooner the better," Phillip said. Seeing Nodoka's crest fallen expression, he asked what was wrong.

"I was planning on spending this afternoon with Negi-sensei," the girl responded. "I better let him know."

"I think he's downstairs training with Ku Fei," he informed her. "Come along. I'll take you to him."

--

Negi leapt and lashed out with his foot, striking Master Ku's cheek at the same time he felt the impact of her kick against his chin. Backwards his head snapped from the force and the boy dropped heavily to the mat. Light of fluorescent tubes glared harshly from overhead as the room spun in tight circles before his eyes. Senses gently floated on top of awareness.

A groan sounded from nearby. "Master Ku" he called, unwilling to turn his head and look. "Are you okay?"

"I not sure," the Chinese girl replied in her broken Japanese. "I think so. How about you bozu?"

"I feel lightheaded," Negi answered. "Otherwise I'm fine."

"Apprentice improved," Ku noted.

"Thank you."

Negi could hear the sound as she rolled on her side. "I think practice done."

"You sure you okay?" Ku asked. Again he heard the mat crinkle as the girl crawled on hands and knees across the floor. Her worried expression hovered above his face. "Bozu?"

"I'm fine. I really am."

"Wiggle fingers and toes," the girl ordered.

"What?"

"No argue with me," Ku replied. "Wiggle fingers and toes."

Dutifully, the boy wizard did as commanded, stopping only when she laid an ear on his chest. "Breath deep." Again he complied. His martial arts instructor finally relaxed though her head remained on his chest.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

Cool, blue eyes stared out from a tanned face at him. "I worried that maybe you were hurt," she admitted. "Sometimes you not tell what you're feeling."

An herbal scent, fresh and clean like a spring morning, clung to her hair and contrasted oddly with sweat that soaked the girl's gi. "Your heart beat faster," Ku said.

Those blue eyes continued to watch him and Negi felt a tightness clench his chest. "I know Negi-bozu is strong," the girl admitted, "but times I worry like Asuna-san, like Chisame-san."

Words spoken on the bus at Kyoto came back to him. "Ku Fei rates pretty high on Chamo-kun's suki, suki Negi list," Asuna had told him. "Chisame, Konoka, Setsuna … we all care about you."

"I don't mean to make you worry," he said.

"I don't blame you," Ku informed him. "I knew what I was getting into."

"Think you can sit up bozu?"

"I think so," he replied as her hands slipped behind his neck and shoulder. With her assistance, he moved to a sitting position. Another memory ghosted up, this one of his test by the Master of the Diamond Valley in Hawaii. A dream Ku Fei had told Negi he couldn't do everything on his own. She had held him in her arms much like this after saving his life. The dream Ku had been right and Negi realized how blessed he was to have such friends as this. Yet a third memory came to him, prompting a question. "Master Ku, why were you reluctant to make a pactio in the Mundus Magicus?"

The martial artist looked shocked at first but a small smile appeared on her face. "I no want first kiss be for pactio," she answered. "First kiss should be like this."

Lips pressed firmly against his and the youngster's heart galloped at its intensity. Without thinking about it, his arms slipped about the blonde-haired girl and drew her close. Deeper their kiss grew and Negi felt himself falling backwards again, but this time Ku landed atop of him. How long they would have remained locked together, the boy would never know as a loud whimper came from the exercise room's door.

Two heads turned a found a red-faced Nodoka staring at them. Next to her stood Phillip whose jaw hung lose. Though Ku had initiated it, Negi had willingly kissed the girl and been caught at it. There was no excuse he could offer, no explanation the boy could give, no spell he could cast that would wipe the look of hurt on Nodoka's face away.

Dimly he became aware of the buildup of energy inside the gym. Magic energy churned around the mind reader and the young wizard could have sworn the air about her rippled. "Nodoka-san," he started.

"You … you pig!" the girl shouted. Spinning around, she fled back through the door.

--

Evangeline had been enjoying her tea when an unwelcomed knock interrupted. Assuming her illusory form, the vampire nodded her head at the uniformed demon who then answered the door. Markham-san's voice quickly cut off the maid's greeting. "Is Ishikawa-san in? This is important."

"Let him in," Evangeline ordered as she rose from the table. Phillip walked into the room, and to the mage's surprise, he was followed by Negi who lead a girl wearing a gi and had a towel wrapped about her head. "What's the meaning of this?"

"I'm sorry to bother you Ishikawa-san," Negi said. "The headmaster said you are one of the magic teachers."

"There was a mishap in the exercise room downstairs," Phillip explained. "We were hoping you can help this student out."

Evangeline's breath drew in sharply as the towel came off to reveal Ku Fei's face. At least she thought it was the Chinese student underneath all those black, bristling hairs. Instead of a nose, her former classmate had a wide, pink snout, and a pair of tusks jutted over her upper lip. Speech was difficult for the girl, but Ku managed to say "Please help sensei."

"Alright," she replied, "but I have to know exactly what happened before I can do anything."

Negi's face began to color as the boy stammered, "Well we were practicing martial arts downstairs, and I got kicked pretty hard, and …"

"… and Ku-san and I kissed," the young wizard finally managed to say.

'It's those Springfield genes,' she thought. 'Boya had better become a Magister Mage and get out of here before the rest of those girls go crazy as well.'

Aloud she asked, "And how did a kiss cause this?"

"It wasn't the kiss itself," Phillip told her. "Another young lady observed it and she was responsible."

"A curse is it," Evangeline remarked. "Who was the other girl?"

"Miyazaki Nodoka," Negi answered as he blushed furiously.

Too stunned to think clearly, Evangeline stared open-mouthed at him. 'You certainly stepped into a big pile this time Boya. I know you want to be like your old man, but this is taking it too far.'

"Can you help her?" the young teacher asked, snapping Evangeline out of her thoughts.

"I'll do what I can," she answered. "You two leave her with me."

"Can I stay?" Negi asked. "I am responsible and I'd like to make this up to Ku-san."

"I appreciate your concern young man, but this will be easier without a crowd."

"Ku Fei is my student too," Phillip said.

"You did the right thing by bringing her to me," Evangeline replied and then paused for a moment of thought.

"Very well gentlemen, since you want to help so badly we'll use a sex magic ritual." The mage turned about and moved her hair to the side, exposing the back of her dress. "If one of you will unfasten me?"

"Se … sex magic," Negi's falsetto responded.

"I really do have to prepare for tomorrow's class," Phillip started but Evangeline didn't hear the rest as her front door quickly opened and closed.

'Cowards,' she thought while rounding back on Ku and Himeiko.

"So no sex magic ritual?" the disappointed maid asked.

"Sorry to get your hopes up," Evangeline responded. "But that was a spell to make those two disappear."

--

Water splashed as she stepped through the pool. Light filtered down from above along with the constant drip. Up ahead, a forlorn figure sat atop the broken stub of a stone pillar. "I guessed I would find you here," Yue said, but the other girl gave no indication that she heard or cared. When Negi told Yue what had happened, she set off to find her friend. Once again they faced each other beneath the library, like in that movie where the character kept reliving the same day over and over. 'Will we ever get it right?' she wondered.

When her grandfather passed away, it seemed as if all the joy in the world was buried along with him. For weeks, Yue had gone about in a daze, doing what was necessary but not really caring. An emptiness was consuming her little by little, and the middle school student observed it with numb passivity. Compelled to join a club, Yue went to the entry meeting required of new students, and meet three of her classmates: Haruna, Konoka and Nodoka. With their assistance, the girl began to slowly rediscover what she had thought lost forever.

Nodoka looked up, her eyes red and puffy from crying. "I don't understand Yue," the girl who so loved books finally said. "I thought when Negi-sensei gave me this ring that it meant he cared. And when he kissed me … I'm such a fool."

It had taken a slap to get Yue's attention during the festival, and now she had to repay the favor. "Yes you are," the girl said unflinchingly. "You're a fool for believing that the others would just leave him to you without a fight."

Arms clutched drawn up legs and chin rested on knees as Nodoka sighed in return. "I don't want to fight my classmates."

"So you're giving up then?" Yue asked. "I guess I can go after Negi with a free conscience. Maybe I could slip him another love potion?"

"You wouldn't?" Nodoka cried in horror.

"Why not? All's fair in love and war or so they say."

Nodoka's head slipped down and Yue could hear the girl's muffled sobs. Wading over to her friends, she wrapped her arms about her. "The only person I would willingly lose sensei to is you," she said.

"I love him Yue."

"I know," she responded. Yue owed her reawakened passion for life to both the shy librarian and the boy mage. They were the two people she loved most in the world and the teen would do whatever it took to hold on to them both.

"What'll I do?"

"First, let's find a dryer place," she suggested. "Then, to quote Markham-sensei, we'll formulate a strategy to optimize our firepower."

--

Flight 1889, Mundus Magicus

Messembrian Skyways flight 1889 continued on its westward course as it carried some 400 passengers over a route that stretched from Megalo-Messembria to Ariadne. It was also one of the few express routes left that passed over both Confederation and Imperial territory. Besides passengers, the ship also hauled cargo to be delivered along the way. Every day loaded pinnaces would launch from the whaleship for small, remote locations they passed by, and returned hours later with more freight for the hold.

Chever Copperwheat continued on his rounds inspecting the cargo hold and launch bays. Most days were uneventful, but occasionally unauthorized people would find their way into places they shouldn't. They were usually kids with inattentive parents or star-crossed lovers looking for a secluded spot. Once he came across a stowaway, a youngster that didn't have the money to get home. The kid was a natural storyteller, but in the end the guard had to turn her over to the ship's captain.

Pulling down on the door handle for pinnace 2, Chever was surprised to find it unlocked. Light from an electric torch travelled over the side of the stingray-shaped craft, revealing nothing out of the ordinary. A hand reached for a radio clipped to his belt and hesitated. 'The boss doesn't like being bothered over every little thing,' the security guard thought. 'Better make sure the crew wasn't just being lazy.'

The door swung outward and a beam of torchlight slowly passed over the compartment. "Anybody there?" he called and only an echo of his voice responded. He stepped into the shuttle and booted feet reverberated against the metal interior with a dull clank. A few paces took him to the crew area where seats and harness were all in order.

Ready to report the crew, a scaled hand reached from behind and covered the guard's mouth. Talon-like fingers tipped with deadly claws pressed down, preventing him from crying out. Another hand gripped the back of Chever's head and together they gave a quick twist, snapping the man's neck.

The still warm corpse was dragged out of the pinnace to the bay's door and tossed off the ship. A search for the missing guard was instituted when he failed to report in, but no trace of the man was found. However, pinnace 2 was reported as secure.

--

Dished rattled, glasses clinked and passengers gaily chatted with one another making the ship's dining room noisy. Above the din, he heard Doctor Federson's voice. "So you're that Doctor Akashi," the old scientist exclaimed. "I read your piece last year on simulating fullerene structures."

"Brilliantly written," the elderly man complimented. "Of course your conclusions were wrong, but still wonderfully written."

"Why thank you," the professor replied.

Hiro sat quietly and listened to the conversations about him. While useful information could be gleaned here, there were far too many distractions. One such distraction was walking towards his direction. Blonde hair fell to her waist, and the skirt's hem swirled about the woman's knees with each step. Back in his world, the assassin would have judged her age to be early twenties, but appearances counted for little when magic was involved. Her ears where animal-like and the young man was struck by the resemblance to that Emily girl he met at the convention. 'Could pass as an older sister.'

The sheep-eared passenger stopped at his table. "Why Mister Akashi," she said in a surprised voice, "Fancy meeting you here."

"Good evening Miss Sevensheep," the man replied as he rose, causing his two companions to emulate his courtesy. "This is a pleasant surprise."

"Allow me to introduce you," the professor continued. "This is Doctor Juntz Federson and this young man is my student assistant, Oishi Kuranosuke. Gentlemen, this is Cycilia Sevensheep."

"Nice to meet you" and "Charmed" were murmured in response.

"Are you meeting somebody?" Akashi asked. When she replied "No", he promptly invited her to join them.

"Well, this is quite the gathering," the woman commented. "We have the renowned scientist, the hero and the agent. How are things with Everlasting Wind Mister Akashi?

"I haven't a clue," he replied. "I'm a professor at Mahora University."

"And we all know what Mahora University is famous for," Cycilia remarked.

"For being the premier technical university in Northern Honshu?" Hiro ventured.

The woman grinned in response. "And for a bit more on this side."

"You seem to know about us," Akashi said. "But who are you Miss Sevensheep?"

"She's a reporter for that second rate news network out of Ariadne," Federson answered. "You received a lot of air time when the Council screwed up over those Gateport Terrorists."

"It's nice to be recognized, but KitNews is not a second rate network."

"How else could you refer to an organization that only gets noticed when it tweaks the authorities' noses," the elderly scientist responded. "One would think you folks don't like the Council of Mages."

"No one, especially those in power, should be able to straight-arm the truth to cover up their own incompetence Doctor," Cycilia replied. "But we're digressing. I'm curious as to what circumstances brought you three together."

"My but you're suspicious," the scientist observed. "Not everything that happens is part of a conspiracy."

"A few coincidences are acceptable; but when enough pile up, they become a pattern."

"What coincidences are you referring to?" Akashi asked.

Hiro watched as the reporter considered her answer. The young man could well imagine her internal dialog on how much to tell and what she'd get in return. "Very well gentlemen," she said, apparently satisfied with her math. "I was in Oculus to interview one of the organizers of the Phoenicis Conference. But Doctor Glimmerhorn disappeared, with all of his assistants, under mysterious circumstances."

"I find the scientist whose theories the missing doctor based much of his research on, going to the same conference in the company of two noted men of action," the woman continued. "Two men from the Mundus Vetus who are taking a pleasure cruise. Rather convenient don't you think?"

"And that's all your evidence?" Federson snorted in disgust. "You've been reading too many Crimson Wing novels where there's a Total World fanatic lurking around every corner."

"My reading habits aren't under discussion," she replied a little too hotly in Hiro's opinion.

Their conversation was interrupted by the waitress' arrival. "Our chef's special starts off with bouillabaisse or a chilled seafood salad, and a choice of entrees: poached salmon or peeled shrimp with cilantro and lime," the young lady recited from rote. "And for dessert we have carrot cake."

Hiro immediately thought of logic problems where you chose the one item that didn't fit the pattern. "Do you have anything that isn't seafood miss?"

"We have carrot cake," she replied smiling.

--

Across the room, a pair of slit eyes continued their observation. Interaction among the passengers was going to occur, but the woman's presence made Cintilla edgy. Still, discreet is what her employer paid for, so discreet the bounty hunter would remain. A tiny mouse-eared man passed by, his carry out order box piled high with an assortment of meat. Her nose wrinkled in disgust as a faint but repulsive odor drifted by with the fellow. 'Don't know what he's eating,' the neko-woman thought, 'but you couldn't pay me enough to go anywhere near it.'

--

Finished with the meal, Hiro sipped from a water glass. His slice of cake remained untouched upon its plate of bone-white china. Conversation continued to be polite but the assassin was reminded of a fencing match as he listened.

"So you question anything the authorities say?" Akashi asked.

"I mistrust anyone in power," Cycilia responded. "You're familiar with the old saying about power corrupting aren't you?"

"I've heard that but there's another I think is more accurate," Hiro remarked. "It is not power that corrupts but fear. Fear of losing power corrupts those who wield it and fear of the scourge of power corrupts those who are subject to it."

His three companions sat quietly and considered the young man's words. "You're full of surprises Mister Oishi," the reporter finally commented. "I believe there's more to you than would appear."

"What's wrong?" Cycilia asked after noting the young man's chagrined expression.

"I do wish people would quit saying that to me," Hiro answered. "Somebody tells me that and invariably I wind up in the middle of a situation I'd rather have avoided."

"Thank you for a most interesting dinner," Federson said as he rose from the table. "I'm afraid I need to take my leave now."

"Doctor," Cycilia called. "You never did answer my earlier question about doing an interview."

"I stopped accommodating the press years ago," the scientist replied.

"We're not all bloodthirsty animals," the woman commented. "KitNews didn't even exist during the feeding frenzy you suffered through."

"No, but I've no doubt they would have taken their pound of flesh with the other sharks," Federson said.

"But …"

The elderly man cut her off, "You're a charming woman Miss Sevensheep; I'd like to remember you that way." Turning to Hiro and the professor, he bid them a goodnight and left.

Excusing himself, the professor left the reporter and assassin at the table. "So are you going to abandon me too Mister Oishi?"

"No, I wanted to make you a proposition," he answered, noting that both eyebrows lifted at that. "An exchange of information might benefit both of us. We do a one for one swap of questions."

"Alright Mister Oishi," she agreed. "What's your first question?"

"Is Sevensheep a common name in Ariadne?"

--

Elevator doors whooshed open to the forward observation deck. Akashi walked out into a star-filled evening sky. At the ship's altitude, the air would have been too chill to stand, but spells kept the temperature pleasant for those desiring a bit of fresh air. Save for a single person standing by the railing, the deck was deserted. The professor watched as a hand lifted a lit cigarette shortly followed by a couple of white puffs. "Good evening again Doctor Federson," he said as he walked over. "I hope you don't mind company."

Turning around the older man watched as Akashi removed his own cigarette pack. "A fellow smoker I see," Federson replied. "Go ahead."

"So were you an agent for Everlasting Wind?" he was asked.

"Once, many years ago."

"That was the outfit Nagi Springfield and his crew were with wasn't it?"

"Yes but I didn't have anything to do with that side of things," Akashi answered. "I was concerned with disaster relief efforts."

Such efforts commonly involved conflict with corrupt officials, warlords, drug cartels and the occasional demon or rogue mage, but the former agent decided to gloss over such complications. "I've being trying to understand the issues the conference will address Doctor," he explained. "Is there really a chance of Azrael's Sword happening?"

"That depends how stupid our leaders are," the other man replied. "As long as the gates allow excess energy a way out, we'll never reach the critical mass for a chain reaction."

"But some are calling for a complete severance between the worlds aren't they?" the professor asked, turning towards the man. "What happens then?"

A small, red dot of light appeared on Doctor Federson's back. Before the other man could answer, Akashi grabbed him by the shoulders and flung them both over the railing. Howling wind masked the sound of the anti-personnel round exploding, but he saw its phosphorescent flash. Cut cold through to the bone as one hand gripped tightly to a cable while the other still held scientist under his arms.

"Can you fly?" he shouted over the rush of air.

"At my age? You've got to be kidding!"

"Then grab hold. I'll need both hands." Federson climbed on his back and slowly he began moving across the cable, going hand over hand.

"Who the hell did you piss off Doctor Akashi?" the old scientist shouted.

"Me? I was going to ask you the same thing?"

Later both men, bundled in blankets, were being questioned by the ship's captain. "And neither of you have a clue who might be responsible?"

"None captain," the professor replied.

"You've received death threats haven't you Doctor Federson?"

"Not since I retired and that was eleven, no twelve years ago."

"Gentlemen, I don't have the resources to conduct an investigation, this is a cruise ship after all," the officer confided. "Considering what you were attacked with, I doubt your safety can be guaranteed until we reach port."

"So what is Mesembrian Skyways going to do?" Federson asked.

"This part of the continent is sparsely populated," the captain informed them. "The closest port large enough to dock in is Phoenicis."

"Probably why whoever waited to make the attempt until now," Akashi commented.

"Quite likely right," he was told. "Our best bet would be to put you two on a shuttle and fly you out to a city where you can secure further transportation."

The officer looked at an electronic map board and drew a circle around the ship's current location. A few keystrokes later, the circle had expanded until it reached a dot labeled Araxes. "Araxes appears large enough to have freighter service, perhaps even a small shuttle line," the man commented. "Well, what do you two say?"

"Doesn't look like we have much choice," the elderly scientist answered.

"I'm travelling with my student assistant," the professor said. "If I was the target, he might be in danger too."

"I'll take care of it," the captain assured him.

--

Flight officer Frist strode down the corridor, whiskers twitching in annoyance. After a hard day's work flying one of the whaleship's shuttles, the pilot had earned his rest. But it seemed he had just nodded off when somebody started pounding on his cabin door. Due to an unexplained emergency, three passengers had to be ferried immediately to the nearest city, and the cat-man was the lucky pilot selected.

So Frist had popped a couple of reviving tablets and left his berth for the crew room. Fortunately, there was little traffic in this air space so the autopilot could do most of the work. He should be able to catch a few winks before he needed to land at Araxes. Still this was not the glamorous life the man envisioned when he enrolled in flight school. Advertisements painted a picture of well paid pilots, leading adventurous lives defying death itself, with women falling all over them. "Yeah, right," he muttered.

Missing out on defying death wasn't so bad, but his bank account had yet to see those huge paychecks. As for the women, there hadn't been that many either. A few more strides and he was in the crew room. A row of flight suits and helmets hung from pegs along the wall with matching boots below them. Having removed his shirt, Frist was surprised by a knock on the door. 'Maybe they called the flight off,' he hoped. Opening the door, the pilot was shocked to find a woman standing in the hall.

Blond colored hair separated a pair of fox-like ears that were reddish-brown. A black dress did nothing to disguise curves that carried on forever. She was the prettiest thing in fur he'd set eyes on in a long, long time. "What is it?" he asked, conscious of her gaze at his bare chest and arms.

"I've been watching you every since I boarded," the woman said as a tiny, pink tongue ran over her top lip. "And it's taken me this long to work up the nerve to talk to you."

"This area is restricted," Frist babbled, not believing what he heard. "You shouldn't be here miss."

"You don't really want me to go," she purred, running a finger along his breastbone. "Do you?"

"I've got a flight assignment now," he weakly protested. "I need to get ready."

"I knew you were a pilot," the woman exclaimed. "Pilots are so sexy. What kind of ship do you fly?"

"St-st-stingray class."

"I bet it has a fourteen prayer sprit engine doesn't it?"

"Si-sixteen actually," Frist gulped.

"I love the thought of so much power responding to the touch of a hand."

"I need to get ready to go."

"What I have in mind won't take long at all," she said with a smile that promised so much. She gently pushed him back into the room and let the door shut behind them. Several minutes later, a fully garbed pilot with communications helmet in place, stepped into the corridor and headed towards the hangar.

--

**A/N: Despite evidence to the contrary, I really do like Nodoka. I mean cute little girls with a love of books rate pretty high in my opinion. Just not as high a uber powerful, loli vampires, or mysterious trapeze artists surrounded by shadowy creatures, or blonde girls with more money than can ever be spent, etc. **

**Aung San Suu Kyi, Nobel Peace Prize Laureate from Burma, was the source for Hiro's quotation. **

**Chapter title and heading are from the Hamasaki Ayumi song of the same name.**

**A pinnace is a smaller ship attached to a larger vessel and is neither a launch nor lifeboat. **


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: Well, this has been a productive winter for me with 8 chapters in the past two months. I really do need to get a life don't I? Please enjoy.**

**Negima and its characters are the property of Ken Akamatsu. Cycilia Sevensheep appears with the permission of MakuhariFan_01. Other OCs are my creations.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, '_reading_'

**The Poison Tongued Beast**

_The head of the beast is a silver-toothed nightmare, its tongue drips a poison for which there's no cure __**– Jane Yolen**_

--

**Messembrian Skyways Flight 1889, Mundus Magicus**

"You failed," a deep voice rumbled from the far end of the room.

Ral looked up at the mammoth form of his partner. "Yes," he answered though the man knew it had been a statement rather than question.

"That's not like you Ral," the voice observed.

"I let myself get overconfident Elys," he admitted. "What now?"

"Now I take care of it," his partner replied, rubbing scaled fingers over massive forearms. "How I hate the winter."

"Will you be returning?" he asked, his words etched with concern.

"I think it best if I don't," came the response. "You know what to do?"

"Of course," Ral answered. "Take care of yourself Elys."

"I always do."

--

Back in the cabin, Hiro flopped down onto his bed. 'It really is a small world,' the assassin thought as he recalled Magic Knight Cadet Emily Sevensheep. He had met her and two friends at a gladiator convention a few days ago and now found himself on the same cruise ship as the girl's mother. 'What kind of odds could I get on that happening?'

After spending the last hour questioning and being questioned by the news reporter, he had learned a bit about the school at Ariadne. It never failed to amaze that people closemouthed about themselves will go on and on about their children. "Top of her class," is how Cycilia described her daughter, "a chip off the old block." He found it odd that the proud mother didn't mention the girl's father otherwise, but then Hiro didn't discuss his "grandfather" either.

Beatrix Monroe was a relative of a family servant, and being the same age as Emily, they had grown up almost like sisters, though the dark-haired girl still referred to her as ojou-sama. Meanwhile Collet was related to one of Ariadne's oldest, aristocratic families. The floppy-eared girl had a reputation for "not being all there," an assessment he had to agree with after spending a day in the trio's company.

'I wonder where the professor got off to,' he thought just before one of the ship's officers knocked on the cabin's door.

"Mister Oishi, the captain wishes to see you on the bridge," the man said, his manner as crisp as the creases in his starched, white uniform. "Please come with me."

A short while later, Hiro stepped through the hatch of yet another aquatic-themed craft. This one resembled a stingray in shape, including a flexible tail behind the main body. Both Professor Akashi and Doctor Federson were waiting inside. "What happened?"

"We were raising too much hell," Federson remarked. "So the captain decided to heave all of us overboard."

"Someone took a shot at either the doctor or I on the observation deck," the professor answered. "The captain thought it best to get us off his ship and to the nearest town as quickly as possible."

"Excuse me but you're in my way," a new voice said. Hiro moved to let the newcomer in. While bulky, the orange flight suit did nothing to hide the sex of their pilot. A helmet obscured most of her face, leaving only a fur-covered chin exposed. "Best get strapped in gentlemen."

Bumping into a rack holding several metal cylinders, brought a hiss of warning to "be careful of those flares."

Characters that seemed familiar but still indecipherable were engraved into each tube. "What does all that say?" the young man asked.

"The flares contain white phosphorous," the pilot responded. "And those are safe handling instructions."

"What language is it written in?"

"Greek of course."

"Figures."

--

Pre-flight instructions filtered through her helmet's comm links. Following the computerized script, Cintilla toggled on a row of switches and the stingray's engines purred to life. Built more for speed than hauling capacity, the auxiliary craft lacked the heavy-duty thrusters and added navigational controls of a true freighter. Besides the streamlined control panel, which a novice could quickly master, there was sufficient tokagepower to outrun nearly anything else airborne yet left the vessel nimble enough to outmaneuver what it couldn't blow past. This accounted for the model's popularity among both smugglers and speed enthusiasts.

A backwards glance showed her mark safely rigged into harness with the other two men. The bounty hunter would have preferred not to have them along, but the situation was an improvement over several hundred passengers.

Vibrating slightly, the ship lifted from the blocks and hovered in place as the launch crew quickly secured loose items before opening the bay door. Gears groaned as the metal door scrolled upwards like a window blind, leaving behind a square of clear, blue sky. The neko-woman nudged the accelerator forward and rotated the trackball controller, keeping steady on course.

Unlike Old World ships, no flame or rush of wind accompanied its passage. Magic-powered engines gently edged the stingray out of the bay. Once the computer spat out the "all clear," Cintilla shoved the accelerator forward and felt the sudden rush as sixteen prayer sprites catapulted them forwards with more than 9000 pounds of thrust. The world rushed past them as the cruise ship swiftly receded from sight.

After engaging the autopilot, the bounty hunter considered her next move. Replacing the pilot was easy enough, but he'd soon be discovered and the authorities in Araxes alerted. A quick check of the navigation charts showed several outlying towns near Phoenicis within the limits of their fuel. Once out of the whaleship's radar range, Cintilla decided she would turn off the navigational computer and communications equipment. That meant she'd be flying blind, but by the same token, nobody could track her.

--

"I'm terribly concerned captain," Cycilia said as she wiped a tear away. "Three men don't just vanish from aboard ship."

"I'm not the ship's captain Miss Sevensheep," the junior officer replied. "And I can't discuss the matter other than to say that your companions are in good health."

"May I speak to the captain then?"

"That is out of the question at the moment," the young man answered. "The captain is occupied with several serious issues that must be dealt with now."

"But …"

"If you wish to speak with the captain, you'll have to wait over there," he said, pointing to glass enclosed waiting area.

Inside, the reporter found the mouse-eared groom she had boarded the ship with back in Oculus. He sat hunched over as if the world had ended. As Cycilia sat down, waves of sadness seemed to radiate from the little fellow to lap around her. "Excuse me for intruding," she said as gently as possible, "but what seems to be the problem."

Eyes red from crying gazed up at the woman. "She's gone," the man softly sobbed. "My Rosalin is gone."

'Rosalin?' she thought, recalling the huge bride in the white kimono. "What happened?"

"We had a fight last night," he answered. "Still angry, I went out for breakfast, and when I came back she was gone."

"The door to the balcony was open and this on the bed," the man told her, holding out a sheet of paper. Written in a beautiful script where the words '_With love's light wings did I o'er perch these walls_.'

"Perhaps she is taking a walk or …" but further words failed her. Cycilia had loved her little girl's father and his death was a devastating blow. Remembered sorrows trickled out in sympathy with the grieving groom. Together in silence, they stared at the simulated wood paneled floor as minutes ticked by.

--

Soft snores issued from the white-haired scientist as Hiro noted the man's chin rested against his chest. 'Must be nice to be able to sleep anywhere,' he thought enviously. Professor Akashi was likewise resting with his head leaned back and legs stuck out straight ahead.

'Man I need a cigarette,' he mentally grumbled. 'But Amelia Airhead there doesn't like smoking.'

"You want to smoke?" she had told him. "Do it out on the wing."

'I'm almost afraid to ask where to take a leak at,' but the pressure grew too uncomfortable. Hiro unfastened the restraints and walked over to the pilot's chair. "Excuse me."

"You again?" she replied. "You're worse than a two year old with all these interruptions."

"Let's skip the sarcasm," the young man said. "Where's the lavatory on this thing?"

"It's in back," the pilot answered. "Curtained area near the tail section."

Gazing over her shoulder, he noticed several rows of lights were out and a display screen with a grid overlay was dark. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong."

"Why is that whole side …"

"Look kid," she interrupted. "If you don't want me to treat you like a two year old, then don't act like one. I don't have the breath to spare answering why this or why that."

"I can see why you haul cargo," Hiro remarked. A small, black dot appeared on one of the monitors.

"Holy sh…," the pilot started to say as she rapidly flipped on enough switches to light the control panel up like a Christmas tree. Rear thrusters kicked in and the ship lurched forward in response, with the other two passengers startled to wakefulness.

"What is that thing?" he asked as the dot grew steadily larger.

"Dragon," the pilot anxiously replied as it came close enough to see the details of. Large bat-like wings spread out and flapped, propelling the huge creatures at speeds unthinkable in his world. Golden-orange fur glinted in the sunlight and horns jutted both above and below the creature's head.

"What are you going to do?"

"We don't have any weapons to fight it with," she answered. "We'll just have to outrun it."

"Anything I can do?"

"Can you fly this thing kid?" she asked, the smile stretching wider as her hand spun the track ball to the right. The stingray sharply veered and Hiro grabbed hold of the pilot's chair to keep from being thrown against the bulkhead. "If not, then have a seat with the others while I try to shake that big lizard."

"You're enjoying this aren't you?" he shouted.

In response the shuttle dove straight down. Hands tightly gripped the chair back as the ground loomed larger through the forward window. Seeming at the last second before they smashed into a pulp, the woman flicked another toggle, activating thrusters. The ship instantly nosed up and skimmed bare meters above the rocky landscape while the assassin gasped for breath.

"You okay kid?" the woman asked and Hiro could hear a fierce laughter behind her words. "Hang on tight."

Banking suddenly upwards, the ship began to twist in a corkscrew pattern, evading the dragon's next swooping attack. The starboard cameras showed an enormous shape hurtle past, just out of range. "How long can you keep dodging like this?"

"Not long," the pilot admitted. "I'm just about out of tricks."

Hiro had just grabbed a fistful of cargo netting as the next round of bank and spin lifted the young man off his feet. "We have a problem!" he yelled at the others. "Do dragons have a weak point?"

"That's debatable but most advise you to strike at the horns in order to disable one," Akashi calmly replied as the stingray pitched about.

"Horns are more important to their sense of honor," Federson just as coolly added. "Their scales are as hard as iron but the soft tissue around their eyes and snouts are vulnerable."

"Great!" the young man exclaimed as he pointed at a row of flares mounted on the wall. "Then all we have to do is shove one of those up its nose and set it off."

"What are those?" the older scientist asked.

"Signal flares," Hiro answered. "Ones that use white phosphorus."

"That would hurt even a dragon," Federson agreed. "How do you intend to 'shove one up its nose'?"

"That's the problem with my plan," he said. "It requires someone who can fly in order to work."

"Such a person would have to be incredibly daring and resourceful," the older man commented. "Possessing finely honed reflexes."

"And have the heart of a lion," the assassin added.

"Not to mention nerves of steel," the scientist continued.

"Please gentlemen," the professor interrupted. "It's getting rather deep in here."

--

Wind rushed through the mane of thick yellow-orange hair as great, leathern wings flapped propelling Elys forward. Cold wormed its way past the heavy layer of coarse fur that covered her scaled hide, as images of basking in the warm sun popped into the dragon's thoughts. Winter was no time for flying but she and Ral had been well paid for this mission. Playing in the blood-red sands of the Solis Lacus had been entertaining even if her partner had wondered aloud if somehow cat's blood ran in her veins.

Flying high, back to the sun, she saw the pinnace ahead. Its diamond-shaped body cruised along at a pace well over 600 kilometers per hour, but with her magic, the dragon had easily overtaken the craft. A well placed bolt of energy would finish it off, she reasoned, but where was the fun in that? Swooping low, Elys dropped to the ship's altitude and began to gain on it, just not too fast. To her delight, the pilot began to take evasive actions, dodging and veering in a vain effort to escape.

Nearly upon her prey, the stingray unexpectedly dived, causing her to bank away as its metal tail snapped towards her face in response. 'So the mouse has a bit of fight,' the dragon chortled gleefully. 'Good! Good!'

As it pulled out of its dive, Elys pounced only to barely miss as the ship climbed. 'You are a worthy opponent,' she thought to the unknown pilot, 'but it's time to end our game.'

A halo, yellow-white, engulfed the set of horns over her head as energy built up. 'Tag!' Elys thought but before her finishing stroke could be released, a small shape detached from the ship. A man, his body encased in a nimbus of mana, flew straight at her. Had she not been so surprised, the dragon would have laughed at the little human's audacity. Still, there were mages that could defeat even one such as her. Energy crackled as her adversary drew closer.

So intent was she on this new threat, the dragon neglected to track the stingray. A mistake realized when it swooped underneath, wings held vertical. Metal scored across the dragon's unprotected belly, slicing through hide into the muscles below. The air vibrated from her bellow of pain, just before the flying human shoved a metal tube into Elys' nose. He crouched above her shoulders, grabbing handfuls of fur the keep anchored as the maddened dragon thrashed about.

"**Inflammo!**" the mage shouted and tube burst apart. Jagged shards of metal drove into flesh and bone but that wasn't the worst as chemicals, hastened by breathing, spread through her nasal cavity and into the tissues of her throat. An agonizing pain consumed Elys, as talons tore at her face. The human jumped away before her great bulk crashed into the ground. He hovered in place and gazed at the creature for several minutes. Detecting no motion, the mage flew back to the ship, his mood a strange mixture of relief and remorse.

--

Ral had just stepped out of the stall and was zipping back up when pain exploded inside his head. Burning, his head was on fire and screams echoed off the men's room walls. He must have blacked out as the next thing the man could remember was a cold feeling of floor tiles pressed against the side of his face while something warm and wet dripped down his forehead. A trembling hand wiped across his brow and came away spotted with blood.

Sluggish muscles finally obeyed as he pushed himself to his knees. A smear of red on the counter's edge showed where Ral had hit when he fainted. A few minutes more and the shaking man had managed to regain his feet and stared into the mirror. Blood covered his face but the wound itself didn't look deep. Far worse was the empty feeling inside, as if someone had scooped out all of his guts and left a shell behind.

Frantically, bloody fingers fumbled through his clothes, till they encountered the card. Though he had already guessed what he'd find, Ral pulled it out and glanced down at the nearly blank surface. A number and his picture, with the words '_Cruor Ral_' written underneath, where all that remained. Blood dripped on the card, staining its pristine white color dark red.

--

Floating through the hatch, Akashi reentered the airship. As Oishi-san secured the door, the professor's feet lightly touched down on the metal floor. "That was something else sensei," his assistant quietly remarked.

"Indeed it was," Federson commented a bit more enthusiastically. "Not everyone can boast of beating a dragon."

"No they can't," the pilot added as she shut off unnecessary equipment. "You're very skilled."

"As are you," Akashi responded. Though he felt wrung out by the short battle, the mage refused to let the nimbus of power that clung to him dissipate. "Your talents are wasted hauling freight."

"Leave a nice word or two for my bosses then," the woman retorted. "Maybe they'll remember me when the next promotion comes up."

He took a few steps forward, cutting down on the potential field of fire. Barriers were in place, but they wouldn't do a thing against anti-mage bullets, like those fired at the observation deck. "I sympathize with the lack of recognition," the professor said. "Even the captain referred to you as Mister Frist?"

"Frist was feeling under the weather," she calmly replied. "So I took the assignment."

"Then you'll be calling in a report on the attack," the professor pointed out. "I'm sure the captain will have a number of questions for all of us."

He heard a single swear word and then, "You caught me. I'm not your pilot."

"So who are you and what are you up to?"

"I'm putting this thing on autopilot," she warned. "Don't start slinging spells around."

The click of a single toggle being set was audible. Slowly, the pilot's chair turned until she faced him. Fingers loosened the chin strap and the woman lifted the helmet off. "My name is Cintilla Nekome," she replied as fox-like ears twitched. "I was hired to ensure that old fart over there reaches Phoenicis alive."

"Old fart?" Federson muttered under his breath.

"I'm sure she means that in the best way Doc," Hiro whispered back.

"Who hired you?" Akashi asked.

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you," Cintilla answered. "Professional ethics and all."

"I can respect professional ethics," he responded, "but you're hardly in a position to hold back information."

"Don't waste your breath sensei," his student assistant interjected. "She's not going to tell you."

"Does this have anything to do with Doctor Glimmerhorn's disappearance?" the old scientist asked.

"Doctor who?" the bounty hunter replied. "Look, all I know is that someone thinks you're in danger and is willing to pay to see you arrive safely."

"Where were you taking us?" Akashi asked.

"A little town name Eudoxus," Cintilla answered. "It's about a day's travel overland from Phoenicis and small enough I'm counting on the authorities not being notified yet."

"I don't trust you Miss Nekome, but we're both bound for the same place," the professor told her. "We'll help you collect the rest of your payment."

--

**Student Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

Hurriedly Nodoka thrust arms into jacket sleeves and picked up her backpack with its happy bunny's face staring up at her. The character's grinning visage above the words '_Crazy doesn't begin to cover it_' seemed to mock her this morning. A quick glance at the clock showed there wasn't even time to grab a quick bit of breakfast. With stomach gurgling in complaint, she locked the door behind her and rushed down the stairs.

It was unheard of for her to be late for school, but the situation involving Negi and Ku Fei was far from normal. Yesterday Nodoka had walked in on the two of them kissing. Not some peck on the cheek sort of kiss either but a full-fledged, deep kiss just like in the manuals Haruna always seemed to be able to produce on demand. If the little martial artist had punched her instead, it couldn't have hurt worse than seeing them locked in such a passionate embrace.

Briefly she had considered reporting to the infirmary, but the dorm's nurse would have recognized the lie. Better to try to avoid everyone, the girl decided, and get through the day. At least the story wasn't all over the school.

Several couches and chairs were scattered around the front lobby. Expecting to be the last one out, the teen was surprised to find a classmate sitting as if waiting. She recognized the blonde hair tied into two, short tails. Ku Fei spotted her and stood but the dark-haired girl continued forward, pretending not to notice her.

"We need to talk," the Chinese girl said.

"I don't want to talk to you," she replied as her face flushed an angry red.

"You can run from me Nodoka-san but no run from it," her classmate declared as she tried to hurry past. "Avert your eyes, it still remains in front of you."

"I love Negi-bozu too," she heard and skidded to a stop in response.

"It took me long time to find courage to say that," Ku admitted. "Courage you found before any of us."

Slowly, Nodoka turned to face the other girl. "Why now?" she angrily cried. "Why did you tell him now?"

"I didn't want to be old woman who regret not saying how she felt." Nodoka couldn't remember a time when the other girl cried, but she saw dampness pool around the corners of blue eyes as Ku continued to speak. "I know bozu probably not want me, I not pretty or smart, but I couldn't pretend I no care about him."

Almost without thinking, her hand began to lift towards her rival, but then it clenched into a fist that fell to the student's side. "I … I hate you," she said in a voice that lacked conviction.

The martial artist nodded her head in understanding. "Hate between you and I makes all weak," Ku remarked. "Negi-bozu and the others don't need that distraction."

The blonde-haired girl turned and started to walk towards the stairs. "Good bye Nodoka-san."

"Wait," she cried. "What do you mean goodbye?"

Turning to look back over her shoulder, Ku gave her a smile the girl would have termed bittersweet. "Like Chao, it time for me to leave Mahora."

Anger and humiliation warred with the feelings of comradeship and trust forged by shared danger. Paralyzed to inaction, she watched as her classmate walked away with head held high.

--

**Girl's High School, Mahora Japan**

"Man like me, he hear all kinds of stories. Stories about two-headed parrots, men that fly with their own wings, men who turn into wolves, stories about queens. Sick queens."

… magic like we have physics, right?

Angels and werewolves. "I've heard stories about werewolves," Jack said. "They're even in cartoons. That doesn't mean anything, Speedy."

"Probably it don't. But I heard that if a man pulls a radish out of the ground, another man a half a mile away will be able to smell that radish – the air is so sweet and clear."

"But angels …"

"Men with wings."

"And sick queens," Jack said, meaning it as a joke – man, this is some dumb place you make up, broom jockey.

"Stop right there Miss Murakami," Phillip said.

Haruna looked up with the rest of the class to see what their teacher's point was. Picking up the chalk, the man wrote the words '_broom jockey_' on the board and turned back to the class. "The authors could have used any of several words here but chose this phrase," sensei told them. "Who can tell me what a jockey is? Yes Miss Shiina."

"Isn't a jockey the rider during a horse race?" the cheerleader asked.

"That's correct but a jockey is also a person who guides the movement of something," their teacher replied. "So Jack is calling Speedy someone who moves a broom around. But why use this phrase instead of janitor?"

Haruna's cell phone vibrated in her pocket. 'That's the tenth time this morning,' the class gossip thought. Something really juicy had to be happening, and the break was more than twenty minutes away. 'I miss Negi-kun. It was so easy to stage an interruption.'

Any number of group hugs and other acts had occurred during the previous two years but that wasn't going to work this time. Again her phone shook and all the mangaka could do was grit her teeth.

"What do you think Miss Kagurazaka?" Phillip asked.

Baka red looked uncomfortable as eyes watched in anticipation. Over the years Asuna had remained a constant in the classroom equation. The sun rose in the east and Kagurazaka embarrassed herself when called on. The student opened her mouth as classmates waited with baited breath. "It sounds kind of disrespectful to me."

"Very good," the man responded as all around air was released in a collective "Huh?"

"Like calling a sailor a swab jockey or an officer worker a desk jockey, there is a trace of contempt in the term," Phillip explained. "And while Jack may not hold Speedy as a person in contempt, it can indicate what he thinks of the man's job."

"I mean how many people even notice a janitor?" he rhetorically asked.

Haruna noticed Sakurako started to raise her hand and then quickly lowered it. Another text message announced its arrival and the girl could stand no more. "Mister Markham," she called, raising her hand. "May I be excused? I need to use the restroom."

Safely inside the student restroom, she pulled her phone out and opened the first text message. "This can't be," the gossip whispered but a quick scan of the remaining messages confirmed the worst. "That's why Ku Fei is missing."

Nodoka was her friend and she'd never want to hurt the girl's feelings, but Team Negi couldn't afford to lose any of them now. Card in hand, she summoned her artifact, "**Adeat**." Quick action was needed, but who best to help? Kaede was Ku's roommate and sparring partner, so she was sure the ninja would help, but a good plan required a bit of logic and neither of them possessed an abundance of that. As much as Yue could assist them, Haruna thought it best not to involve another corner of this love triangle grown to rectangle. "Well if this calls for logic, then I know the right, er person."

--

When Kaede stepped back into the classroom and carefully dropped a folded scrap of paper on her desk, Chachamaru stared at it, not comprehending its significance. Scanning her memory banks, the robot pulled up a file from the first year of middle school when Takahata-sensei caught the Narutaki's passing notes in class. From that incident, the gynoid learned that such behavior was discouraged. Strings of ones and zeros flowed across her circuits, but the student couldn't find an instance when the tall kunoichi had done so before.

Her desk mate, Yuna, grinned as the girl cautiously lifted the top flap and read the words 'Go to the bathroom.' She raised her hand. "Mister Markham."

"Yes Miss Karakuri?"

"My sensors indicate my liquid retention tanks are nearing maximum capacity," the robot matter-of-factly replied. "May I be excused to empty them?"

"Certainly Miss Karakuri," her teacher answered as Yuna groaned something about "TMI."

Unsurprisingly, the robotic student found two of her classmates waiting for her. Haruna was still dressed in the apron and cap from her pactio card and next to her stood Kaede. "Your golems are improving," Chachamaru observed.

"We have a big problem," the class gossip told her and then explained the events surrounding a certain kiss from the previous day. "Ku Fei has submitted a request to withdraw from school and go back home."

"Isn't that for the best?" she asked. "That does remove a source of friction doesn't it?"

"For awhile," Haruna answered. "But then Nodoka will get depressed over forcing a friend away. And what happens if Negi-kun resents her for it?"

A perplexed expression appeared on Chachamaru's face as she processed what the other girl had said. "Your reasoning is valid but seems atypical," the robot noted. "Don't you support Nodoka's relationship with Negi-sensei?"

"Of course, I do," the other girl responded. "But more importantly I support Nodoka learning to stand on her own two feet, to take the bad with the good and make the most of it."

"We were hoping you might be able to suggest a course of action," Kaede informed her.

"Our optimum path would be to have somebody who Nodoka-san would recognize as having similar feelings speak to her," the gynoid answered.

"So we need to find somebody who's been burned romantically?" Haruna asked. "We have a few hundred to choose from in this school alone."

"Based on available data, I would say Makie-san fits the profile we are seeking," Chachamaru said, provoking an outburst of "Baka Pink? No way!" in response.

"Please consider Haruna-san," the robot replied, "Makie-san had a similar reaction after Nodoka-san received that ring from sensei. Despite that, she has achieved a more cordial relationship in the past few weeks."

"Nodoka-san should be able to recognize that if she and Makie-san can reach an accord," Chachamaru continued, "then it isn't unreasonable for her and Ku Fei to do as much."

"That makes sense in a weird sort of way," Haruna said thoughtfully. "But Makie-san?"

"Only Nixon could go to China," the robot girl declared, drawing two blank stares.

Once again she queried her database and found a related analogy. "Sorry, only Captain Kirk could go to the Klingons."

Both kunoichi and mangaka nodded their heads in agreement.

--

**A/N: Chapter title and heading is from the poem 'Why Dragons' by Jane Yolen.**

**Elys is based on the tiger dragon Negi and Chachamaru faced in chapter 190.**

**The quotation on "Love's light wings …" is from Shakespeare's 'Romeo and Juliet' (the balcony scene for those really interested in knowing).**

**Passage in class reading is from "The Talisman" by Stephen King and Peter Straub.**

"**Only Nixon could go to China" is an old Vulcan proverb according to "Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country." **


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: What's in a kiss? Well plenty depending on who gets kissed and by whom. Like a pebble that starts a rock slide, a first kiss has turned into something with far more serious consequences. **

**In the scene with Asakura, and am implying a process similar to what Ambrant Arandel presented in chapter IV of his "A Day Indoors" series. You can find this excellent chapter by pasting the following in your browser (after the fanfiction dot net) /s/2995712/4/A_Day_Indoors. Go ahead, I don't mind if you want to check this out first … Done? Well then, I hope you enjoy the chapter. **

**Negima and its characters are the property of Ken Akamatsu. All OCs appearing are my creations.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, '_reading_', -telepathy-, _memories_

**A Thousand Cranes**

_Her ancestors knew the legend-if you make a thousand cranes from squares of colored paper, it will take the pain away – __**Fred Small**_

--

**Girls High School, Mahora Japan**

Warm, afternoon air drifted in through an open window, contributing to the drowsiness that stole over Makie. The student stifled a yawn as her teacher continued explaining conjugations for the umpteenth time this term. Though sensei certainly tried hard, her mind had only so much room for information. Ask her to recite all of the rhythmic gymnastics champions, individual and team, senior and junior divisions, for last forty years and the girl could rattle them off by rote. But memorizing which verbs were transitive and which weren't made her thoughts fuzzy.

Besides, more than English had conjugations and that really made a confusing mess. They conjugated in algebra class. Bacterium conjugated in biology and they even discussed conjugated variables in physics. It was more than a poor brain should be made to handle. If she didn't have Ako's notes to review from prior to tests, Makie didn't know what she'd do. 'I probably wouldn't be in high school,' she thought. 'Elevator school or not.'

Eventually the baka ranger's extra study session was over. Makie still didn't have a clue but made sure to tell Mister Markham what a fine job he was doing.

"Thank you Miss Sasaki," Phillip replied. "Just remember all this as you're finishing up your paper tonight."

"Paper?"

"The four page paper that's due tomorrow," her teacher said. "You haven't forgotten about it?"

"Oh that paper," the gymnast responded. "No, of course not."

Yue's fellow explorers stopped by and Haruna gave Makie a quick nod before the trio left. Quickly, she scooped the remaining books and papers into her bag and set off in pursuit. Catching up just outside the building, the gymnast called, "Nodoka-san! Can I speak to you for a moment?"

"I don't have a lot of time right now," the girl replied. "We have an important club project."

"I'll try not to take too much time," she said. "But it is important I talk to you. Now."

"It's okay Nodoka," Haruna said as she took hold of Yue's shoulder and propelled the smaller girl forward. "We'll be at the library."

Makie shuffled nervously as her classmate stared at her. It seemed so easy when Kaede talked to her during lunch. "Tell Nodoka how you felt," her tall classmate had told her. Well that was easier said than done.

"I wanted to apologize for how I've treated you since the end of last year," she said as hands grasped her book bag tighter. "I was being to mean to you and you didn't deserve it."

"I accept your apology," her classmate replied. "Now if you'll excuse me."

"There's more Nodoka-san," Makie continued. "I was there when Negi-kun fought to become Evangeline-san's apprentice."

"I remember how Asuna-san wanted to stop the fight when he wouldn't give up," she told her classmate. "But I knew he wasn't being stubborn; Negi-kun knows what he wants to do in life, and like in the tournament, that was something he needed to do to reach his goal. After the festival when we all promised to help him, I meant every word of it."

"Following all of you into the Magic World wasn't about tagging along for the fun," Makie declared while her throat felt as if a hand was squeezing it. "I wanted to help Negi-kun find his father like the rest of you."

"I watched as that Fate boy hurt him and I couldn't do anything," she nearly sobbed. "Seeing all of you being so heroic left me feeling as insignificant as a speck of dust."

"Watching with the rest of class as he put his mother's ring on your finger made me feel like nothing I did or felt meant anything." The gymnast sniffled as she struggled to hold back tears. "I was angry and I took it out on you, yet when you saved Akira's life, I realized how wrong I was to treat you that way."

Unable to face Nodoka anymore, she spun about and started to run when the other girl shouted "Wait!"

Makie paused but kept her back turned, not wanting the other girl to see her blubber. "Do you still want to help Negi-sensei?" she was asked and the teen nodded in response, not trusting her voice. "Then I need you to do something for me."

--

Daylight streamed in through the window as the train climber higher into the hills. Kimiaki Tsuwabuki was returning to Mahora after a more than sixty year absence.

_At age sixteen, she had travelled from Hiroshima with her mother and younger sister by ferry, car and finally a steam powered train that chugged up the flanks of these same mountains. Her mother, Mitsuru, quietly read from a book of haiku while Say-chan chattered excitedly about joining their father and going to a new school._

_After several months supporting the fight in China, her father's carrier was to undergo extensive refitting. Until that was completed, the navy fighter pilot had been assigned as the senior military instructor to the Boys' Normal School. The girl understood that this was considered an important assignment, but her only wish was that he would find his happiness._

_In the few, short weeks after his return from China, Aisaka Haru seemed a different man. He didn't smile as much as Tsuwabuki remembered, and not once did she hear that deep laughter of his. His nose was still often buried in books, but instead of stories by favored writers he read only government approved texts. Despite whatever virtues the 'Cardinal Principles of the National Body' might have, the girl doubted it was near as enjoyable as 'I am a Cat'._

_When they had finally reached the train station, her father was waiting for them, and best of all he was smiling. Say-chan fairly bounced into his arms, and in a rare public display, the man swung her about reducing the poor girl into a fit of giggles. He drove them to their new home and while it wasn't the same as their grandparent's house in Hiroshima, it was a welcomed sight. And for awhile it seemed the father she remembered had returned._

With a start, Tsuwabuki realized the train was slowing down as it pulled into the station. Quickly she gathered her things and waited for the doors to open. Rather than stepping out, it seemed as if she were caught in a flood of people and carried along with the current until left alone on the sidewalk as the force of the tide dissipated.

Not knowing exactly where she needed to go, the woman began to look about for a likely person to ask directions from; her eyes landed upon a blonde-haired girl lugging a heavy suitcase. "Excuse me young lady," she asked, "do you know how to get to the school's headmaster from here?"

"Of course," the girl replied in her foreign accent and then proceeded to give a series of directions that caused Tsuwabuki's eyes to glaze over. "Or I could take you there," the teen offered.

"I wouldn't want to delay you," the woman replied. "You must be in a hurry to catch your train."

"I'm not in that much of a hurry I can't help," the girl responded. "There will always be another train."

With surprising ease, the teen hefted the bulging bag and started back down the street. It took only a few steps for the girl to realize a much slower pace was called for. "We can catch street car at end of this block," her new companion said.

"That would be welcome," Tsuwabuki remarked. "I'm curious, where are you from?"

"My home originally in Mianyang, but family moved to Hongkong six years ago."

"Are you going to visit your family then?"

"Yes," the girl replied though her face momentarily lost its cheerful expression. "Are you visiting relatives here?"

"No, I went to school here many years ago," she answered. "I graduated the Normal School, what you call high school, in 1940."

Her guide's face looked thoughtful. "I know of girl who went to school here at that time."

"Many girls went to school here when I did."

"Her name Aisaka," the teen replied. "Aisaka Sayo."

The world grew grey and still as if frozen by a sudden winter storm. Silence, as deafening as an avalanche, roared about her drowning out the noises of the city. Thoughts long buried rose from their ancient graves; gaunt shades desperately clinging to a thin veneer of life temporarily granted by memory.

_Sayo knelt next to her in the small plot of earth Tsuwabuki had chosen for the garden. With great reverence she scoped dirt from the ground and her sister passed another cutting. "Did father really bring these from China?" her sister asked._

"_Yes," she had replied. "They are very special."_

"_How are they special?"_

_Carefully Tsuwabuki reached out with her senses, placed the cutting at the proper depth and moved the soil back around it. "They hold the key to father's happiness."_

Ruthlessly the old woman thrust the memory away, forcing it back into a musty prison. A faint yet insistent voice called after her and Tsuwabuki grabbed hold of that lifeline, allowing it to drag her back into the present.

"Are you okay?" the blonde-haired girl asked, her face clouded by worry.

"I am well," she replied. "I think perhaps I am a bit more fatigued than I realized."

Their journey to the administration building was surprisingly quick. A young, brown-haired receptionist announced her name and almost immediately, Konoemon was opening his office door and inviting her inside. The years had been no kinder to him the woman realized.

He gazed at her and that wry smile of his peaked out. "Tsuwabuki-san," a still hale voice greeted. "I had never thought to see you again."

"I never thought to return to Mahora," she replied. "But I was shocked to find our grandchildren had been introduced to one another."

"Their initial meeting was quite by accident," the headmaster tried to assure her. "And the invitation for an o-miai was sent in error."

With a skeptical glance, she regarded the man. "Then why did you permit it?"

"Because I don't believe I could have prevented it," Konoemon answered. "I do not accept this was mere chance."

"So you believe they are fated to be together?"

"No, I believe they were fated to meet," Konoemon answered. "Beyond that, I know not what the future will hold for them."

"I am afraid for Shirai-kun," she admitted. "He is my only grandchild."

"Please be seated," the old man said, indicating a chair. Rather than taking his chair behind the desk, he chose the seat next to her. "If I said there was no danger, we would know it was a lie. Yet both worlds, seen and unseen, offer their share of dangers do they not?"

"He has a lifetime of experience with this world's dangers," Tsuwabuki replied. "But my grandson has no knowledge of the hidden world's."

"Konoka is my only grandchild too and I fear daily over her," the headmaster told her. "Both for those things I know and understand and for those I do not."

"Do you truly believe this union is the best for your granddaughter?" she asked. "Or is this an attempt to relive a lost youth through her?"

From the man's expression, she knew this was a painful subject. Yet it was the most important question Tsuwabuki had. 'To blazes with blind chance and destiny both!' she fiercely thought. 'I'll not let you ruin Shirai-kun's life to chase after an old dream!'

"If I could undo the past, I would without hesitation," Konoemon replied. "Yesterday is beyond my reach; I can only affect tomorrow."

"Konoka's happiness is what I wish to secure," he continued, looking every bit a weary and aged man of eighty years. "If she finds it with your grandson, so be it. If not, then I accept that too."

"What of you Tsuwabuki?" he asked in return. "What are you hoping to achieve?"

"I don't want to lose another of my family to Mahora."

He went over to the desk and pressed a button on the intercom. "Akiko-kun," he called. "Have high school student Asakura Kazumi report to my office."

Turning back to his guest, the headmaster's expression was inscrutable. "Since you are here Tsuwabuki-san," he said, "there is some unfinished business we can conclude."

--

Dressed in the school's blazer and skirt, the red-haired reporter who had visited a few weeks ago, sat in the chair next to her. A doll dressed in a sailor-style uniform was held tightly on her lap. Kazumi's eyes showed interest and a slight bit of anxiety. "I had been sitting next to that empty chair for over two years," the girl told her. "Every time I would turn to look at it, I always felt the person sitting there had just gotten up."

"Then strange things started happening," Kazumi explained. "I think your sister was trying to contact us but nobody could understand. We thought an evil spirit was loose in the classroom."

"So what happened?"

"Our teacher hired a pair of exorcists," the reporter replied. "When they located our evil spirit, I managed to take a picture. What I saw was a girl about my age who was as frightened as any of us."

Tsuwabuki kept quiet as the red-headed teen continued her narration. "The teacher and I managed to stop them from sending Sayo's spirit on. We offered to be friends instead."

"Even then she still seemed to be tied to Mahora," Kazumi said. "I eventually found away for her to go where I go with this doll."

"Was my sister with you that day you visited me?" the old woman asked.

"Yes," the girl answered. "She was sad that you couldn't touch."

Konoemon, who had been silent throughout this discussion, unexpectedly asked, "Would you like to converse with each other Tsuwabuki-san? To touch?"

All three of the room's other occupants turned towards him. "I believe Sayo-kun is familiar with the procedure through Professor Springfield's efforts. Your cooperation as a willing host is required Kazumi-kun."

"You mean possession?" the student asked.

"Of a sort," the man replied. "If we think of your body as a car, you're moving to the passenger's side and letting your friend behind the wheel."

"I could never ask such a thing," Tsuwabuki said.

"I'll do it."

"But …"

"Kimiaki-san, you said you thought your sister and I would make good friends," Kazumi responded. "Well, we do. I offer this out of our friendship."

"I believe then my presence is not required," the headmaster commented. "I'll wait in the outer office."

Once alone, a cold-sweat broke out on Tsuwabuki's forehead. "What do we do?" she asked but the reporter had gone silent. Minutes ticked away with the only noise being the steady drawing of breath. Beginning at the tips, the young girl's hair changed color, the red seeming to drain away. In rapt fascination, she watched the odd metamorphosis until the other's hair was a white as her own. Red eyes stared out from a face unfamiliar yet so well known. "Say-chan?" she whispered.

"Sister?" a voice answered. Had it hissed and popped like an aged, vinyl record, it wouldn't have surprised her in the least. Instantly the two were in the center of the room, wrapped in an embrace delayed for 60 years. Youthful arms hugged her tightly as Tsuwabuki's aged arms returned with equal ardor.

--

Konoemon had wandered over to one of the large windows that overlooked the front of the administration building. Ku heard his "Hm, hm," followed by a "most interesting."

"Akiko-kun," he said to the brown-haired receptionist, "are we expecting an important visitor today?"

Glancing down at her desk, the young woman scanned through numerous additions and corrections to the day's calendar. "No sir," she answered. "There's nothing on the schedule."

"Please take a look at this," he said to his former student and Ku Fei stepped over to the window. Below was a crowd of a hundred people gathered in front of the building, and others were arriving. Many wore street clothing but some had on gi's and a few were dressed in full kendo armor. "By chance do you, hm, know any of those people?"

"Some I recognize from martial arts clubs," the girl answered, confused by the gathering.

"I wonder what they want," the headmaster said as if thinking aloud.

"I go find out," Ku offered and hurried downstairs. Such was her haste, the girl didn't notice the man remove a card from his robes and place it against his forehead.

--

-Toko-kun, - the old man thought. -You are aware of the group gathered in front of the administration building?-

-Yes sir, - the school's chief of operations responded. –Several of the martial arts clubs sent out word that an important challenge was being made.-

-You will keep things from getting out of hand? - the headmaster asked.

-I am personally observing events and agents K and J are backing me, - Toko informed him.

-Very good. Keep me appraised, - Konoemon said and then tucked the card away. One of the benefits of his job was that not a day went by without some occurrence to lift it out of the ordinary.

--

Outside stood a crowd made up exclusively of members from various martial arts groups. Many of whom she had fought in tournaments or during her before school ritual. Recognizing the pompadoured man, she demanded "What's going on Gotokuji-san?"

Gotokuji Kaoru stared at the Chinese girl; a stony expression was on his face. "We heard Chairman Ku got scared," he answered disdainfully. "You were running away from a fight."

Heart began to beat faster and color rose in her cheeks. "I not running!" she shouted to the crowd. "I not scared to fight!"

"Then you'll accept a final challenge?" he asked in a voice loud enough to be heard above the mob's noise.

"Sure I accept," the teen replied. "Who do I fight? You?"

He merely smiled as a hush settled over the throng. People shuffled to the side, clearing a pathway. Through it, a short, slender figure dressed in a hooded robe walked forward. Ku was instantly reminded of Albireo, but this person was too small to be Imma-san. The stranger stopped in front of the now silent crowd, face hidden within the hood's shadows. "I Ku Fei, all Mahora martial arts champion," she called out in challenge.

Hands, white and delicate as fine china, pulled back the hood; Ku gasped at the face revealed. "I am Miyazaki Nodoka," her former classmate replied. "I am your opponent."

She could only stare in disbelief. Nodoka had proved herself brave and resourceful, but this went beyond all reason. "I no want to fight you," the girl cried out. "You … you are …"

"I am your rival. You either fight me or admit defeat in front of all these people."

"I don't hold back when I fight."

From beneath the robe Nodoka produced her card and artifact. A glow surrounded her as the powers of her pactio were activated. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Someone in the crowd shouted "500 on the Chairman!" and another replied "You're on!" but both were swiftly quieted.

Ku suddenly sprang forward and struck out at the girl, who calmly twisted and avoided the punch. The blonde girl immediately followed up with the opposite palm thrusting at Nodoka's chest. But her opponent had already spun out of the way and the point of an elbow smashed into Ku's shoulder.

As she fell forward, Ku lifted her feet and kicked backwards, striking the back of the other girl's head. The force of the blow knocked her adversary to the pavement but Nodoka's hands spread out and arms flexed as the dark-haired student executed a series of hand springs. As both combatants faced each other, the martial artist realized that her thoughts were being read.

'Even with that advantage, I'm trained to react faster than she can,' she thought. 'See if you can keep up with this.'

Moving quicker than most of their audience could follow, Ku launched a flying kick that her opponent ducked below. On landing, her leg lashed out trying to sweep the other girl's feet from underneath. Nodoka leaped away, arched into a back flip and sprang away with a gymnast's grace.

Back in the Magic World, the mind reader had used her artifact to relay information on their enemies' attacks and to coordinate counterattacks. No one had considered if the Diarium Ejus could allow one to use another's skill; maybe not at their level, but still strengthened by a mage's strength and speed. 'What if she could combine Mana's skill with bozu's speed?'

Ignoring the shudder that thought raised, the Chinese girl bore down with every bit of speed she could muster, throwing punches and kicks one after the other. To her surprise, library-chan blocked a few and dodged the remainder. Nodoka seemed to get tangled up in her robe long enough for Ku to grab the girl's arm and flip her over. Again with unexpected skill, her opponent landed on her feet and bounded away.

Deliberately the martial artist approached without any clear plan of action. As Nodoka edged away, Ku realized her opponent had no intention of attacking but was only responding to her. 'You'll never win if you only defend.'

Thinking only of tackling the girl, Ku rushed forwards. A thought not her own rang clearly in response, -This isn't about winning.- A knee connected solidly to her chin; pain travelled down the jaw and lanced into her neck. Eyes filled with tears as Ku punched straight ahead and her fist sunk into the other girl's stomach. A "whoof" escaped Nodoka's mouth as the blow lifted the girl from her feet. Honya-chan smacked against the ground, rolled over and laid still.

Onlookers stared in stunned silence while Ku forced herself to Nodoka's side. "I'm sorry," she whispered then noticed the other girl gasp but no sound issued forth. Without thinking, she pressed her mouth down over her rival's and blew air in. Several members of the crowd groaned in response, but she ignored them and continued to force breath into honya-chan's lungs until a muffled cry stopped her.

A face bruised and scrapped gazed up at her. - Don't leave, - echoed in the back of her mind.

'What of Negi-bozu?' Ku thought back. 'This doesn't change the situation.'

Lips smiled back though her former classmate was no doubt in pain. - We've told him how we feel; he'll make a decision in time, - Nodoka answered. - When I said I hate you, that was my anger speaking. I want you to stay. -

"You have a funny way of telling me," she said aloud.

"Sometimes we only listen after being smacked upside the head."

Her pain was no less, but Ku could only grin in response.

--

Makie opened her eyes and found herself staring into her former teacher's face. "Negi-kun?" she whispered. The last thing she remembered was having her thoughts synced with Nodoka-san, assisting the girl. Trying to sit up, the boy's hand gently pushed her down.

"Lay back," he scolded her. "You just fainted."

"But Nodoka-san …"

"What about Nodoka-san?" a very worried looking Negi asked.

"Um, she was unhappy over Ku Fei leaving," the gymnast replied.

"A lot of us are unhappy over her leaving," the boy teacher pointed out.

"I'd like to sit up," she said. Glancing at the shaded ground, Makie realized that Negi had carried her under a tree. The boy's coat lay beneath her and a wadded lump of burgundy-colored fabric had served as a pillow. 'He's so strong,' the teen thought, 'and so sweet, and so cute and … and … and what am I thinking!'

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked again. "Your cheeks look flushed."

"I'm fine," Makie assured him. Looking for something to distract them both with, she asked about the burgundy pillow.

"That's a new faculty coat," the young teacher answered. He shook it out, revealing a fleece jacket with a hood.

"That looks so cute," the girl remarked. "Can I see how it looks on you?"

His smile looked a little rueful as he explained while it was the smallest size they carried, it was still too large for him. Her "please" broke down his reservations. Negi stood and slipped the coat on, zipping it halfway up.

The youngster seemed lost even in a small jacket and Makie resisted giggling at the sight. "It is a little big," she agreed, "but you'll grow into it in no time. I think you're already taller just since we graduated."

"Thank you," he politely replied. Grabbing hold of the zipper, he pulled down but it failed to move.

"What's wrong?"

"The zipper's stuck," he answered as another tug brought no further progress.

"Here, let me help you Negi-kun," she chuckled and knelt before him. "This shouldn't take but a moment."

But the fastener proved just as resistant to her efforts as the boy's. She struggled for several minutes and then Negi told her, "Its okay Makie-san. I can do this for myself."

Makie suddenly grabbed a handful of fleece, causing Negi to nearly topple over. Quickly the boy grasped her shoulders to keep his balance. "Be careful," he warned and followed that with "You're tugging too hard."

"Don't wiggle so much," she replied as the zipper budged. "I can feel it moving."

Finally worked past the fold obstructing it, the zipper opened the rest of the way. "There it goes," she happily cried. However, joy was short lived as Negi nervously said "Um, hello girls."

Makie, still kneeling, glanced over her shoulder to find Nodoka and Ku Fei staring at them. "So did everything work out?" she asked and then noticed the pair's sweaty and grime covered faces. Little veins poked out of the library girl's forehead while her other classmate's knuckles crackled, echoing ominously in the shade.

"Now wait a minute," Makie said as she got to her feet and backed away from Negi. "I was only helping him unzip and ..."

Eyes widened in response to her words as the teen belatedly recognized her mistake. "And …" Two sets of eyes glared at her and Makie knew no mercy could be expected. "And I'm sooo in trouble," she whispered as her doom rapidly approached.

--

Even with the battle over and the girls departed, the crowd was only now dispersing. Toko sighed in relief. The fight could have quickly gotten out of hand, however both girls had restrained themselves in the presence of so many non-mages. The Operations Chief hadn't though much of the Miyazaki girl's abilities, but was now forced to revise her opinion. Perhaps Takamichi-san's observations were valid.

Kataragi walked towards her, sunlight gleaming off the rims of his sunglasses. "Any idea what that was all about?" he asked.

"None," the woman answered. "Let's call it a grudge match and leave it at that."

The bearded security agent nodded his head in agreement. "I knew the Chinese girl could fight, but that skinny one surprised me," Kataragi observed. "She was just pulled off of patrols too wasn't she?"

"Yes," Toko replied and began to wonder how to go about getting Miyazaki-san put back on the schedule. Her head jerked up at a sudden shriek.

A block away, the two recent warriors pelted after another girl who wailed "Noooo! You don't understaaand!" Those remaining from the original crowd pointed and took off in pursuit of the trio. "300 they catch her," one was heard to shout, followed by "I'll take that." Kataragi gave her a questioning look.

"You two go ahead," she answered. "I'll join you after reporting in."

In a blink of an eye, he and the other dark-suited agent were gone. Toko held the pactio card to her forehead. – Sir, - she thought. – We've had a reoccurrence. –

--

**Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus**

Ikoma sat and enjoyed the view as rays from the setting sun flashed over shells embedded in the far wall. Light and shadow rippled across their surface in an intricate dance, like adversaries across a battle field. The world was full of such dualities, forces lodged in opposition to one another: light and shadow, good and evil, man and woman. In all cases, one side fought for mastery over the other in a never ending struggle; a simple fact of life most tried to ignore.

Those who pretended the world was otherwise were fools, and easy to defeat. Mifune was of this group and Ikoma would eventually rid himself of the man, but the councilor was currently useful to his plans. Now Speaker Karkolova was of the other sort, more like him. The woman understood how to get power; what she lacked was the ruthlessness needed to hold it firmly in her grasp. In a way, she shared Mifune's delusions about the Council. Both saw it in some idealized form rather than for what it was, power; power that could be seized and molded by one uninhibited by such quaint notions.

A deep note of the doorbell sounded, and the mage glanced over at a nearby clock. 'Right on time,' he thought. 'But then she would be.'

Hesitantly, the cat-girl entered the sitting room, moving gingerly as if taking care not to step upon pieces of broken glass. He could smell her wariness and anger, but beneath that lay a whiff of fear. Ikoma stood and greeted his guest, "Good evening Koyomi-chan. I'm glad you accepted my invitation."

Towering over her, the man caught a faint shudder before the girl steadied herself. "Good evening Councilor," Koyomi replied, her voice neutral but the mage could well imagine it raised in a snarl of challenge. "I was under the impression it was an order not an invitation."

He stepped around the girl, eyes roaming over her from top to bottom. "Very nice," he said appreciatively. "I approve wholeheartedly."

From her expression, the cat-girl considered his compliment worse than an insult. No doubt a barbed response was waiting on the tip of her tongue, but better sense prevailed. As long as her opponent held the upper hand, she'd bide her time. 'However, I'll have you broken to saddle and harness before long,' he promised as a grin of anticipation spread across his face.

An antique chessboard from the Old World, with figures carved from white and green jade snared Koyomi's attention. "Do you play?" the councilor asked.

"I don't play games," she curtly replied.

"That's too bad because I find them very enjoyable," Ikoma offhandedly remarked. "Perhaps I can interest you in a little wager? Say if you can defeat me in a game of chess, I'll arrange for you to visit your one-horned playmate."

"And if I were to accept such a bargain," Koyomi carefully said, "what would happen if I failed to win a game?"

He picked up a small box from a side table and held it up. "Why then you'd wear this." He lifted the lid to reveal a leather collar supporting a gilded bell. Sparks of anger nearly flew from her and Ikoma imagined the air about the girl snapping in response.

"So how about it Koyomi-chan?" he asked. "Is seeing Tamaki-chan worth taking a risk?"

--

His face wore an insufferable grin, one guaranteed to raise hairs on the back of Koyomi's neck. She glared back across the ornate chess board, but the man sat as unruffled as a stone-carved Buddha. 'How could you let him goad you into this?' she screamed at herself. 'He's got you boxed in.'

Desperately she scanned the playing board, hoping for some sudden bit of inspiration to snatch victory from an impending defeat and the further humiliation of wearing a collar like … like … 'like a pet on a leash!' The cat-girl had only accepted the challenge in order to see Tamaki and find out for herself how the other girl was.

Her co-ministra was held prisoner as surety for their cooperation. Tamaki's captors had severed a horn in punishment for Master Fate's failure. How their Minister could fail, Koyomi didn't know, but no doubt that little Springfield brat and his bratty fangirls had something to do with it. But whatever the reason, losing a horn outside of battle was the worse disgrace possible for a dragon, even one of mixed blood. Some grew despondent enough to take their lives. Silently she swore that those responsible for her friend's pain would suffer too.

First she had to deal with the arrogant man before her. Koyomi didn't have many options to play. Her queen could attack the black king, but was unsupported. Ideally, she could use her bishop except that it was blocked by one of her pawns. Two moves were needed and her opponent wasn't likely to forego one of his. Tension was building to an uncomfortable level when music unexpectedly played.

Calmly Ikoma took a phone from his pocket as Koyomi's ire grew. She recognized the song playing as one of Damashi's earlier hits 'Fear Closing In', an irony exaggerated by the Councilor's smug attitude. "Councilor Ikoma," he said into the phone and she watched as his eyes narrowed. "I told you not to call …"

The caller must have said something upsetting as color began to drain from the man's face. "I see," Ikoma remarked as he stood and moved away. He turned his back and spoke in a low voice so the girl couldn't hear the rest of the conversation. Seizing her chance, Koyomi advanced the pawn one square and waited with baited breath.

"I expect this to be dealt with soon," Ikoma told the person on the other end. "And don't call me again."

Pocketing the phone, he stalked back to the table and Koyomi's heart pounded so hard she was afraid it might break a rib. "Our evening is over with," the man announced. "See yourself out."

"What about seeing Tamaki?" she asked.

A contemptuous expression appeared on his face as he glared at Koyomi. "Tomorrow," he snorted derisively. "Someone will pick you up from your apartment tomorrow evening." After he stormed out of the room, the girl seemed to deflate while air slowly whistled out between her lips.

--

**A/N: I get so PO'ed when people start talking trash about bookstore and how she's either completely overpowered or utterly useless. While I don't expect her to challenge God Soldiers or single-handedly take on a battleship, she shouldn't be relegated to excess baggage whenever there's a fight. I mean even Shinobu could wield a mean frying pan at need. Enough of my ranting. Nodoka is okay, Ku is still with the team and Makie is … well, still baka pink. All is right with the world.**

**I am indebted to Makuhari_Fan01 for his novel solution to making the Diarium Ejus actually useful. The pertinent parts are found in chapter 11 of his 'Ala Alba in the World of Magic.' I also thank him for his help in defining how Nodoka uses her artifact in this chapter.**

**Thanks also to Fionn the Otaku for the suggestions.**

**Chapter title and heading are from the song "Cranes of Hiroshima" by Fred Small. The song was inspired by the story of Sasaki Sadako.**

'_**Cardinal Principles of the National Body' **_**or**_** 'Kakutai no Hongi'**_** was an official publication issued by the Ministry of Education in 1937. It was created to articulate official state teachings and doctrine to all citizens.**

'_**I Am a Cat'**_** is a novel by Natsume Soseki and takes a satirical look at Japanese society at the turn of the twentieth century. **


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: Welcome to chapter 19. This started out as the longest chapter I've written, over 9000 words, but I took out about six pages that didn't relate to the main story presented, That will go into chapter 20 instead. While the previous chapter mainly concentrated on the 'Negima' characters, this one is almost exclusively OCs. **

**Look, we all know Ken Akamatsu owns 'Negima', lock, stock and barrel, so I don't need to belabor that point, right? Cycilia Sevensheep, intrepid reporter for KitNew Network, is the creation of Makuhari-Fan01, to whom I am indebted for suggesting several improvements. Other OCs are my creation though I do admit to shamelessly ripping off 'Robotech' for some names.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**

**The End of the Episode**

**_Ache deep; but make no moan: Smile out; but stilly suffer: The paths of love are rougher than thoroughfares of stone –_** Thomas Hardy

--

**Phoenicis, Mundus Magicus**

A steady thump, thump, thump came up the trail causing numerous small creatures to skitter or slink under the protection of brush or rocks. Four pale shapes trotted into view, each carrying a darker shape upon its back. The mounts resembled nothing so much as swans grown to a size larger than an ostrich. Riders held on to long, leather straps and bounced above the saddle with monotonous regularity.

Eudoxus had been a small town, too small to have a shuttle service. They did, however, have a business that sold domesticated orniths and after some spirited haggling, the travelers purchased animals to carry them to the coastal city of Phoenicis. As dawn arrived, they crested the final ridge of hills and halted for a short rest.

At the base of the hills, the city spread out before them. Rose-tinted towers soared gracefully into the air and looked almost delicate compared to the massive structures of Megalo-Mesembria. Sunbeams reflected off the waters of the nearby Amazonian Sea and sparkled blue and green in the morning light. Their bird-like steeds shifted restlessly from foot to foot and long, white plumed necks twisted about, scanning for signs of predators.

"I told you it was a day's journey from Eudoxus," their cat-faced guide announced as her mount pecked at a possible snack within a pile of brush.

"You didn't mention that our mode of transportation would be so primitive," Federson remarked.

"It wasn't Miss Nekome's fault that the shuttle service had gone out of business," Professor Akashi commented.

"Be thankful we could buy these orniths," Cintilla told him. "Otherwise we'd still be trying to hitch a ride."

"We could have contacted the cruise line if there wasn't the small matter of a stolen airship," the old scientist pointed out.

"Take it easy Doc," Hiro said. "A different pilot meant that dragon would have gotten us."

Tired and sore from the long ride, the assassin wanted nothing better than to relax in a hot tub for a few days. Of course it would be nice if he had a companion of the opposite sex along. A dull but familiar ache responded to the random thought. It had been months since Hiro had experienced that sort of companionship. True he had been recuperating for most of it, yet even after recovering he found desire lacking. 'No, not lacking,' he told himself as a certain someone back at Mahora came to mind. 'Come on! I've got no time for daydreaming.'

"I won't be able to walk for the rest of the week," Federson groaned. Sniffing at his clothes, the man's face screwed up in an expression of disgust. "We all stink like damp feathers too."

"You're alive doctor," Cintilla reminded him. "Try concentrating on that."

"How are we going to get to Ariadne Professor?" Hiro asked. "Are we going to catch that express ship?"

"Not unless we can prove conclusively that I wasn't the target," Akashi answered. "We'll probably need to charter a private transport."

"As long as we don't have to ride these birds," the young man replied.

"Let's get moving," the bounty hunter said as she pulled the reins back, forcing the ornith to desert its prey. "I swear you complain like a bunch of spoiled kids on a long trip."

"You have no idea how much I want to ask 'are we there yet Mom?'" Hiro quipped.

The assassin could well imagine her making a rude gesture as the woman stared at him. "I'll count my blessings," she replied and then dug heels into the mount's flanks, kick starting the small group back into motion.

--

Being named something that translated into The Scholar's Inn, Hiro had imagined the hotel would be a quiet place off the beaten path, filled with solemn-faced people. To his surprise he found a rambling structure built along bluffs overlooking the ocean, just blocks from the city center. Walking into the lobby, he heard a tinkling sound that came from a fountain covered with white and blue tiles. The two scientists approached the counter behind which a short, copper skinned woman with a pair of pointed horns rising from her forehead stood.

"So I guess this is where you ride off into the sunset?" he asked.

"Something like that," Cintilla answered. "By the way, I didn't mention it but that was pretty quick thinking on using the flare."

"Thanks."

"Are you really a college student?"

"Yes but I'm only part-time," Hiro responded. "Why do you ask?"

"You seem to have the aptitude to be a bounty hunter."

"I can't say I've given that profession any consideration," Hiro replied. "How's the pay?"

"It sucks," the neko-woman replied. "But you get to travel."

"And meet interesting people right?" he asked. "Is this some kind of recruitment drive?"

"No, I'll leave that for big outfits like Canis Niger," Cintilla replied.

"And here I thought you were suggesting a partnership."

"I know you're a Vertere, but don't bandy the word partner about so freely," she warned. "Over here that's almost like a marriage proposal."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Besides, a partner would get in my way," the fox-eared woman remarked. "That is unless you can see into the future, turn your hand into a sword and sprout wings."

"Afraid I never learned how to do any of those things," the assassin told her. He watched the desk clerk hand a key to Doctor Federson and then turn towards the professor.

"Looks like I can go collect the rest of my fee," Cintilla said grinning. Hiro stared, mesmerized by hips sheathed in black leather that swayed back and forth as the bounty hunter walked away. An odd scent, distinct from sweat, leather and feathers, lingered in the air. "See you around part-timer."

--

Walking into the hotel room, Hiro gave an appreciative nod. "This is nice sensei," he commented. "Mind if I take the bed closest to the hallway?"

"Go ahead," Akashi replied and then set his bags on the second bed.

"So what's the plan for today?"

"Same as always," the professor answered as he began unpacking. "Check around, ask questions and find out as much information as we can. I suggest you try someplace other than the bar this time."

"Are you going into town then sensei?"

"I thought I would stop by that conference Doctor Federson's attending." Opening a dresser drawer, Akashi dumped a stack of shirts into it and continued. "Several other important scientists will be there and this would be a good time to canvass the scientific community."

"I'm amazed that there are scientists in the Magic World," the assassin remarked.

"Why wouldn't there be?" the older man asked in return as socks were tossed in with the shirts. "Magic is just another force, like gravity, and is studied just as intently."

"The idea takes a little getting used to."

Akashi removed a wooden box from his bag and set it on the writing desk. It contained an ink pot, a quill and several strips of paper. After setting one of the strips on the table, he began scribing a circular pattern that reminded Hiro of a mandala. "What's that professor?"

"When I finish it will be charm to help me find you if I need to," Akashi replied. "I'll make one for you to locate me, but considering recent events it seems a prudent precaution."

"So is this a magic GPS?"

"Close, however you don't get the girl with the cute voice telling you where to go."

"I don't think I'll mind that at all sensei."

--

**Mesembrian Skyways Flight 1889**

White silk shimmered in the cabin's artificial light. Ral had tried to pack Elys' things but touching them reminded him of the painful emptiness of his partner's loss, so they remained spread out on the bed. People thought of assassins as unfeeling monsters, devoid of the most basic emotions. However a whole host surged through the little man as surely as if he had grabbed hold of a live wire.

He had called in to report the failure to eliminate their target. Their employer was understandably angry and had cancelled the contract. Ral hadn't cared about losing the money or worse, the reduced credibility; neither could bring back Elys. A blood-stained, pactio card lay in his breast pocket and he could still feel the burning inside his head whenever thoughts turned to it.

There was only one thing the mouse-eared man could do. He didn't know who was responsible for the dragon's death, so Ral would go on to the convention. If their victim somehow managed to survive and showed up, the assassin would kill him. "Will that be enough Elys?" he whispered as a single tear rolled down his cheek.

--

Being the last stop within Confederation territory, the whaleship would remain docked as passengers cleared through customs. Flight Officer Frist, still suffering the effects of a slight concussion, walked along a corridor with satchel in hand as the crew prepared for their own inspection. He had been reamed from one end of the bridge to the other for his part in letting the stingray be stolen. At least the company received word the airship had been recovered. He should have known that a beauty like that would never throw herself at him. Well, it only took once to learn that lesson.

From out of nowhere, a hand slapped over his mouth as slit eyes stared into his own. Her pungent scent invaded his nose, the odor setting off a chain of reactions evolved over centuries. Frist could feel the dampness on his forehead as the femme fatale's breath tickled his whiskers. "I'm sorry for leaving you like that," the woman whispered as she removed her hand. "I was pressed for time."

"What … what do you want?" he whispered back, barely able to draw breath.

Her hand glided down his chest as she answered. "I did leave a few things behind in my haste, but what I want right now should be obvious."

'Don't fall for it!' his mind screamed as the pilot said aloud "I don't know what you're talking about."

A soft moan escaped past his lips as the woman's hand dropped lower. "I think you do," a husky voiced purred.

A short time later, too short in his opinion, Frist lay across the cabin's bunk and watched as the modern day pirate finished dressing. "I don't suppose I'll see you again."

"Oh I don't know about that," she remarked. "It's a big world out there."

"I'm sorry," Frist blurted out and then immediately regretted it. "I mean I'm not sorry … but the circumstances …"

"Are what they are," the woman said as she sat down on the edge of the bunk and leaned over.

"I'll let you in on a little secret," she whispered. "I really do think pilots are sexy."

He longed to put his arms around the woman and pull her close, but an important question nagged at the officer. "One of the security guards disappeared just before we met."

"I'm not responsible," came her reply.

"I think this flight may have been cursed," he commented. "We even had a possible suicide."

"That little, mouse-eared guy looked like his entire world had crashed around him," Frist continued. "I guess maybe it had."

"Mouse-eared?" Cintilla asked. "Was he the one that carried the huge boxes of meat out of the dining room?"

"I don't know about that, but I could believe it with a wife that huge," the man answered. "I mean she was easily twice my size."

In an instant, she was up and hurrying through the door. "What's wrong?" the pilot asked but only his echoing voice responded.

--

**Phoenicis, Mundus Magicus**

Paio sighed as the neko-woman kept going on and on about how she was to meet her friends and couldn't she please give her their room number. Life had truly gone downhill since last year's festival at Ostia.

Then she and her companions in Canis Niger had been assigned a simple task of capturing two wanted teenage girls. The pair had been implicated in the terrorist plot that destroyed most of the gateports and each had a sizable bounty on their heads. The higher-ups had even approved the use of a military strength spell to incapacitate their targets with. That should have been Paio's tip off that something wasn't right. But no, like fools they sat back and started counting their share of the reward before it was earned.

'And they had such nice breasts too,' Paio thought, regretting the lost opportunity for an up-close examination. In all the Mundus Magicus there was no greater expert on breasts than she, but those two were now far beyond her reach. And the Canis Niger command council had been less than pleased when Captain Zaytsev made his report. The little demon realized somebody had to take the blame for failure, but why did it have to be her. 'How are the mighty fallen,' she lamented.

Paio noticed that the cat-faced woman had a rather nice chest too, fully developed yet possessing the all-important bounciness. Without realizing it, her hands had moved forward to cup those firm globes and compare their worth. 'What am I doing?' she thought as hands suddenly diverted to straighten a pen and paper pad instead. 'I can't afford to get fired again.'

"I'm sorry but this hotel has a firm policy about giving out our guest's information," she told the annoying woman.

"Couldn't you make an exception this once?"

Twin mounds moved underneath stretchy fabric, transfixing her gaze. Paio could feel a dryness in her mouth as pictures of cavorting among them filled her mind. A shout of "Part-timer! Over here!" broke her concentration. Those marvelous breasts retreated as the neko-woman threw herself into a young man's arms and proceeded to mash her face against his in a revolting display.

Her "boyfriend" was wearing a tee-shirt, sandals and a pair of swim trunks. "Glad to see you got all dressed up for me," the strange woman said to him when they finally came up for air.

"I was on my way to the pool," he remarked in surprise.

"What? You forgot all about taking me shopping?" The neko-woman grabbed hold of the befuddled fellow's arm and half dragged him to the entrance. "You're not getting off the hook that easy."

Out the door the couple went and Paio started to raise a hand as if to bid farewell to another pair of delectable orbs. An expression of spite crossed her features. 'I hope you spend all your money,' she thought to the nameless, young man, 'and don't even get to touch them.'

--

"Shopping?" Hiro asked once they were on the street. "And what's with that greeting?"

"I'll explain in a moment part-timer," the bounty hunter replied as her arm lifted to hail a cab. The shark-shaped taxi pulled over and she told the driver "Take us to the Gloval-Kravshera Conference Center."

The couple slid across the bench seat as Cintilla slammed the door shut. "It's like this part-timer," she started.

"My name is Kuranosuke, not part-timer, not kid."

"Whatever," the woman replied. "I don't think we were attacked by a wild dragon."

He looked at her and silently waited for his companion to continue. "In my business, you hear about those on either side of the law," she explained. "There is a pair of assassins, a little guy with mouse ears who's partnered with a dragon. Back on the ship I passed a man who fit the general description and had a real bad smell around him, a smell that could be from a dragon."

"I've technically earned my fee, however I'd hate to lose a client so soon afterwards," Cintilla told him. "And I thought your sensei should be warned."

"Then we're headed to the right place," Hiro said. "The professor wanted to talk to some of the attendees."

Getting to the center was easy, but getting past security proved a little more difficult than the pair expected. Turned away from the main entrance, Hiro considered their options. Looking around for an unguarded door or window was time consuming, but it seemed the couple had little choice. Rounding a corner, the assassin spotted a familiar face. "Miss Sevensheep," he called out to the news reporter. "Over here."

--

Cycilia stood between two, beefy security guards, feeling like she was surrounded by giants. A microphone was clenched in her fist and she nervously waited for her camera man's signal. He gave the thumbs up and she began speaking. "This is Cycilia Sevensheep in Phoenicis, where even as we speak, scientists from around the world are meeting to discuss a looming crisis. And providing for their security are men such as these two gentlemen."

Out of the corner of her eye, she noted the two young people edging towards the front doors. "With me are officer …" she held the mike up to the man on her left who responded with a monotone "Tul."

"And officer …" the reporter said as she shifted the microphone to the right. The other guards stared for a moment and then slowly said "Folmo. Is it okay if I say hello to my family?"

"It should be fine," Cycilia answered.

"Hi honey," the guard said as his hand waved back and forth. "Hi kids. It's daddy."

Hiro and the young girl ducked inside the center. 'Good luck you two,' she thought. 'I'm expecting a good interview out of this.'

"Officers Tul and Folmo are part of this elite group responsible for protecting the conference attendees," she continued as the camera rolled. "Officer Tul have there been any threats made against the conference or those attending?"

"No," the man answered.

Cycilia cringed at his succinct response and thought, 'A really good interview you two.'

--

"So what now Kuranosuke?" the neko-woman asked once they were inside. "That name is too long. I'm calling you Kuro."

"Fine, fine … whatever," he absent-mindedly answered while gazing about the lobby. To himself, the assassin thought, 'If this was my job, where would I set up? I'd want a good view, clear field of fire and easy access to a way out.'

"We split up here," the young man said aloud. "You go inside and keep an eye on the doc, and I'll see what I can find up top. If you see the professor, let him know what's going on."

Hiro felt a hand give his a quick squeeze and then she was rushing up the steps towards a set of double doors. "Take care Kuro."

The shorts-wearing bounty hunter vanished behind the door, and Hiro again noted that fragrance from earlier, only it seemed stronger. 'She needs to go easy on the perfume,' the young man thought as he deeply inhaled its aroma. 'Makes it difficult to concentrate on anything else.'

--

Cintilla stood upon the top tier of an amphitheater. Gazing at the sea of business attire below, the woman felt uncomfortable in her shorts and halter top. Another discomfort made its presence known, bringing a mental curse. 'Damn! Those suppression tabs haven't kicked in.'

'Focus,' the bounty hunter thought as her gaze swept the room. Doctor Federson's white hair, surrounding a bald spot, was visible down in the front and Professor Akashi sat a few rows behind him. Several different races were present including elves, tiger-men and nagas; even a centaur was in the audience, but no sign of the little man from the whaleship. Still wary, she made her way down to where Akashi sat.

Upon the stage, a grey-furred tiger-man stood behind the podium. "I ask that all of us observe a moment of silence for our missing colleague Doctor Glimmerhorm." The hall grew quiet and many heads bowed out of respect for the mathematician.

"Professor," Cintilla softly said as she knelt by Akashi. Quickly she outlined the situation.

"Where's Oishi?"

Eyes travelled upward towards the center's roof. A metal platform jutted out from the walls, ringing the entire chamber and providing space to affix lights and speakers to. "Up top," she answered.

"Take my seat," the middle-aged man replied as he rose. "Federson delivers his address after they finish the welcoming speech."

After the period of silence, the aged speaker droned on and on, thanking everyone involved for their support of the conference, and then launched into how the next two days were laid out. Cintilla squirmed in her seat, acutely aware that her neighbors stared at her, though whether in amusement or outrage she cared not. Desperately the bounty hunter wished for an end to the torment.

"I would like to introduce a man whose work is well known to us here," the old tiger-man said. "A pioneer who blazed a trail that many have followed since."

'Get on with it,' Cintilla mentally screamed as a heel bounced rapidly up and down.

"A scientist whose theory is very much in the news today, and whose name will forever be linked with mana mechanics," he continued, "Esteemed colleagues, I present Professor Emeritus, Antigone University, Doctor Juntz Federson."

Scattered applause greeted the white-haired man as he stood and started towards the stage. A loud bang as something heavy struck the overhanging platform sounded, bringing Cintilla to her feet. A few strides and she was next to the doctor. Grabbing the old man, she pulled him to the ground. They were quickly surrounded and arms tried to lift her off of Federson. Headlines proclaiming "Crazed Nekomimi Assaults Scientist" sprang to mind as she gripped the man tighter. It was then they heard an explosion.

--

Slowly, the hatch opened and Hiro stared out from the crawl space. Resembling an inverted, ceramic bowl, the ceiling curved overhead. A circular platform, criss-crossed with power cables for the lighting and sound systems, sloped upwards as it extended into the room. Warm air beat against the assassin's face and beads of sweat immediately formed on his brow.

Lying prone on the platform, about 15 meters from the hatch, was a small man. The figure held what appeared to be a rifle and was busy adjusting the sights. Like a cat stealthily approaching its prey, Hiro crawled onto the platform. He rose to his feet, bent forward under the roof. Among his companions there were probably those who would be appalled by attacking a foe from behind, but in the shadowy world of hunter and hunted, one used every advantage or one died. No matter how one tried to spin it, he was as much a killer as the nameless opponent before him.

Without making a sound, he withdrew a knife from a pocket and unfolded its blade. A couple steps more and he'd be close enough to strike. Beneath his foot, the floor buckled; a dull, metallic whump echoed loudly in the enclosed space. Instantly the assassin dove forward and thrust his knife into the other man's thigh. His opponent screamed in pain and tried to bash Hiro's face with the rifle butt. Shouts from below drifted upwards.

Hands reached for his throat as the pair thrashed about. His knee jerked up between his adversary's legs in response, bringing another yelp of pain. Fingers clawed towards his eyes but were intercepted by teeth than brutally bit down, prompting a fist to mash into his ear. An unexpected roll put the assassin on his back with the little man trying to pound Hiro's head against the platform. Hands grabbed both mouse-like ears and viciously pulled. While his opponent frantically tried to free himself from the younger man's grip, Hiro got his feet up and pushed. A glassy thunk sounded each time the little man smashed against the dome and then he clattered against braces and struts when kicked away.

If Hiro had ever wondered how a cornered rat fought, he wondered no more. His battered body hurt all over as he gasped stifling hot air down into his lungs. Glancing down, he could see the other combatant get to his knees. Blood gushed from the knife wound, staining a pant leg. The little man grasped a black object whose purpose the assassin could only guess at.

"Pretty boy hero thinks he's won," his opponent snarled. "All you've done is upped the body count."

Professor Akashi's voice echoed off the walls, "Stop right there!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Hiro saw the dark shape of the abandoned rifle. As a hand began to squeeze the unknown device, he grabbed the gun. Pointing the muzzle took a million years and pulling the trigger a million more. A brilliant flash of the anti-barrier round exploding filled his vision. A roar filled his ears and heat washed over him just before losing consciousness.

--

Security agents still swarmed about like locusts, taking statements from anyone inside of the building. Cycilia sat in the crowded lobby as people rushed about, sure that their task was the most vital one. From what the reporter had gleaned, somebody had tried to blow up the conference center and been stopped by a familiar pair, a college professor on sabbatical and his student assistant. Cynical reporter that she was, Cycilia was certain the authorities would never sort it all out.

Of course, the student had prevented a similar occurrence in Megalo-Mesembria several days ago, and the mild mannered professor had once been an agent of the same organization the Thousand Master belonged to. Gazing at the person sitting across from her, Cycilia wondered what the neko-woman's role had been in all this. The stranger was acquainted with both of the men and had snuck in with Oishi while the reporter interviewed the door guards. A fox-like ear twitched as cat-like eyes glanced again at the door behind which a healer was examining the young man.

Unconscious, Oishi had been carried down by medical attendants. Though his face was bruised and bloody, he was in better shape than the small figure carried out behind him. That one had been completely covered by a sheet.

"Are you a friend of Mister Oishi's?" the reporter asked.

The neko-woman's face snapped back towards her. "Friend? Sort of. More like a professional acquaintance."

"What profession is that?"

"I'm a bounty hunter," came a strained answer. "Look, I know you were promised an interview and all, but now is not a good time."

"I suppose it's not," Cycilia remarked. "You are holding up rather well, though if you grip that poor chair's arms any tighter, you'll likely break them."

The bounty hunter loosened her grip but remained silent. "Maybe talking will get your mind off of … other problems," the reporter suggested.

"Guess anything's worth a try," the younger woman responded. "What should we talk about?"

"Let's start with an introduction," she answered. "I'm Cycilia Sevensheep, reporter for the KitNews Network."

"Cintilla Nekome. I'm a bounty hunter."

"Why did you become a bounty hunter?"

"The pay was better than working in a bar," Cintilla replied. "And I'd meet a higher class clientele."

From behind the door, a robed woman bustled out, followed by her patient. "Now you keep those goggles on for the next few days, especially in bright light," the healer instructed. "And while you need extra sleep that's no reason to be lazing about. Plenty of fresh air and exercise is needed to restore energy depleted by healing."

"Yes Ma'am," he softly agreed. The young man stopped as the two women converged on him.

"How are you feeling Kuro?" Cintilla asked.

"Remarkably good."

Cycilia dropped her voice down to a conspiratorial level. "I bet if you two were to follow the healer outside you could avoid those security types for a little while."

Oishi looked confused by her comment, but the neko-woman grabbed his hand and set off in pursuit. As they left, Cycilia thought back to another young couple and their chance encounter. It didn't turn out at all like the young girl had dreamed it would; there had been pain with the joy, but considered in hindsight, she wouldn't have wanted to miss one minute of it.

--

"Do you know how silly you look wearing those?" Cintilla asked as they walked down the hallway.

Fold up shades like those given out after his eyes had been dilated rested on his nose. "That's what I get for staring at an explosion."

"Are you really okay? You're not feeling faint or anything like that?"

"I'm fine for having been in a tooth and nail fight," Hiro answered and then switched his voice to mimic the healer's. "Extra food and sleep with lots of vigorous activity is just what I need."

"That was a crazy stunt to pull," the bounty hunter told him, "but considering the grenade could have collapsed this whole place down on us, I guess it was a good thing."

They walked a few more meters and then Cintilla spoke again. "You remember what I said about needing to see into the future and all that stuff to be useful?" she asked. "You're pretty useful without all that."

"Thanks," he replied and then sniffed twice at the air. "What is that perfume you're wearing?"

"Well …" she started and then craned her head about. Walking over to the nearest door, Cintilla opened it and peered inside. "What do you think of this one?"

He stepped next to her and gazed at the small room. "I think it looks like a broom closet."

"That's what I think too," Cintilla remarked before shoving him through the opening. Stepping through herself, she pulled the door shut. It closed with a sharp click.

--

**School of Magic, Ariadne, Mundus Magicus **

Few people were in the student store, so Beatrix ducked inside to check out the latest magazines. Ignoring '_Young Mage_' and its sister publications full of makeup tips and dating surveys, the Mage Knight Cadet scanned the section reserved for prize fighting magazines. "Is the new issue of '_Gladiator Quarterly_' in?"

"The one with Jacobius Rakan on the cover?" the clerk asked. Beatrix nodded in response but her hopes were dashed when the woman replied. "Not yet, but I'm expecting it soon."

The cadet was about to ask whether she could reserve a copy when her eyes alighted on the current issue of '_Mundus Magicus Today_'. A picture of the boy she and her classmates had met at the convention stared at her from its cover. Beatrix' preference ran more to heavily muscled prize fighters, though she would never admit to it, but something about the young man from the Old World caught her attention. She was reaching for the magazine when a familiar voice shouted out, "What'cha doing Beatrix?"

The dark-haired mage spun around and found her fellow cadet, Collet Farandole, grinning at her. The other girl's face bore a happy look of one untroubled by thought. The floppy-eared cadet had a well deserved reputation as the class dunce, but had talent none the less. While Candidate Farandole had the dubious distinction of scoring the lowest of any student accepted into knight training, she had made it through a process that eliminated 97 of every 100 applicants. A few quietly wondered if being the ward of the school's headmaster had anything to do with her acceptance, but not within Grandmistress Seras' hearing.

"I'm looking to see what new magazines the store has," she answered.

"Ooh, is that Oishi-san?" Collet asked. Hands grabbed the magazine off the rack and Beatrix cringed as they crinkled its pristine cover. Quickly the blonde-haired girl flipped through its pages. "Any pictures inside?"

"I didn't have the chance to look."

"This is so cool," her classmate declared. "I'll take it."

Beatrix gazed at the bare spot on the rack as the other girl counted out her 8 drachma and 40 asu to the clerk. "Would you like a bag," the woman behind the counter asked.

"No thank you," Collet replied as she rolled her purchase into a tube and walked out with it. "See you in the dining room Beatrix."

Magic Knight Cadets were battle hardened, ready to withstand any privation, but the unfairness of the situation caused her to quake in outrage. Dangerous visions played out in her mind as Beatrix considered assisting the other girl with proper placement of the magazine.

"Are you interested in that magazine too?" the clerk asked her.

"Yes Ma'am."

"I have another bundle in back," the woman informed her. "There's not much demand for news magazines so I only put one or two out at a time."

She actually smiled when asked, "Would you like me to get you one?" A few minutes later, Beatrix left the store, carefully holding her double bagged purchase.

Deciding to wait for Emily, the girl walked into the Student Center lounge. Marie de Noir and two other classmates were gathered at the far end, watching a wall-mounted HD screen. Noting the familiar KitNews Network logo, Beatrix approached.

"This is Cycilia Sevensheep reporting from the Global Mana Conference in Phoenicis," she heard as her ojou-sama's mother appeared on the viewer. "In a startling development, an unknown assailant attempted to fire upon one of the conference speakers. Security has also confirmed that the attacker was armed with an explosive device."

"They're trying to blow up everything," one of the students remarked.

"With me are two of the people responsible for stopping this plot," the reporter continued as the camera panned towards a casually dressed couple. Beatrix had no idea who the neko-woman in the halter top was, but instantly recognized the boy wearing dark goggles. "Miss Cintilla Nekome and Mister Oishi Kuranosuke have agreed to speak with me about today's events."

"Oishi," Marie repeated. "Isn't he the guy who saved all those people in Megalo-Mesembria?"

"Yes," one of the other girls confirmed. "I heard the Class President and those two suck ups were there."

"Suck ups!" Beatrix shouted, causing the trio to spin around. "Who are you calling a suck up?"

"Oh, hello Beatrix," Marie replied as an anxious look crossed her face.

"She wasn't talking about you," the third girl said while nudging her careless friend's side.

"Right," the one who uttered the offending comment hastily responded. "I meant two other suck ups."

"Is it true?" Marie asked her. "Did you meet that Oishi guy?"

"Do you know who that woman is?"

"Is she a girlfriend or something?"

"Not now," Beatrix sharply replied. "I want to hear the rest of the interview."

"Miss Nekome, what exactly is your involvement in all this?" the reporter asked.

"I was hired to protect one of the conferees," the woman answered.

"That would be Doctor Federson, correct?"

"Yes."

"Is this attack related to the mysterious disappearance of conference organizer, Doctor Glimmerhorn?"

"I suspect that there might be a connection, but I haven't seen any evidence of such," the bodyguard answered. "I'm sure the authorities are investigating every possibility."

"Mister Oishi, you fought with the attacker didn't you?"

"That's right," he answered as the camera slowly panned over the young man. Beatrix winced at the number of bruises and scratches on his bare arms and legs.

"For somebody on vacation, you seem to be keeping very busy," Cycilia commented. "You were also responsible for disarming a bomb in Megalo-Mesembria recently."

"I'm actually participating in a university work-study program," Oishi responded. "As for the rest, I happened to be in a position to act."

Beatrix heard the murmurs as more students entered into the lounge. "What's going on?" one girl asked, prompting a hurried "Shhh" as Emily's mother resumed talking.

"You're attending Mahora University in the Old World aren't you?"

"Yes I am," he answered, resulting in excited chatter.

"Did she say Mahora?" "That's so cool." "Who is he?" "He's kind of cute."

"Quiet!" Beatrix bellowed.

She had met Oishi-san at Glad-Con and then ran into him in the women's washroom of all places, while he was being pursued by a gang of toughs. He and Collet had stumbled across a bomb planted right below the seats of several members of the Mage Council. Now the young man stopped a madman from killing a group of scientists gathered from around the world. 'What else could one expect from a student of the renowned Mahora,' the girl thought. 'He's out doing what we're only training for.'

"So what are your plans now?" the reporter asked. "Miss Nekome?"

"Security has requested my help for the rest of the conference," the fox-eared woman replied. "We'll make sure something like this doesn't occur again."

"Mister Oishi?"

"My sensei and I will continue travelling as planned."

"And where are you heading next?"

"Ariadne I think."

A collective "Ooohhh" filled the room followed by babbling that made it impossible to hear the remaining interview. Beatrix felt a spark of joy at the thought of seeing the young man again, but gazing at her classmates, it dimmed as several pairs of eyes seemed to morph into heart shapes.

"Where are you off to Marie?" a voice asked.

"The student store," came the reply. "I think I saw a magazine with that guy's face on the cover."

Listening to a sudden stampede, the dark-haired cadet clutched her prized copy tightly to her chest. 'Maybe I should wait for ojou-sama in our room.'

--

**A/N: ****No, this wasn't meant as a Valentine's Day story; the timing just worked out that way. **

**Thomas Hardy's poem 'The End of the Episode' is the source for the chapter title and heading.**

**Marie de Noir showed up in chapter 211 of the manga as one of class 3G's competitors for the broom race. I think Marie is the girl on the extreme right of the panel showing the 3G and 3J teams.**

**Orniths, short for ornithohippus, are flightless birds that are larger than ostriches and look like huge swans without webbing between their talons. I came across the idea in a collection of critters called 'All the World's Monsters' by Chaosium Inc.**

**Chapter 20 should be out before too long. Take care until then.**


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: Events in chapters 18, 19 and 20 happen on the same day, the first day of school after the Golden Week break. Cycilia's report in this chapter occurs right after Hiro's battle with Ral and some hours prior to the joint interview seen by the students at Ariadne.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns 'Negima' and its characters. Cycilia, Chiho, Bekus, v-Chao are OCs belonging to Makuhari-Fan01. Other OCs are of my own invention. In the chapter, Regina refers to Owyn and Andrei. These are first names I've given to Nekane's father (Owyn Springfield) and Anya's father (Andrei Cocolova).**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells", **'_reading_'

**A Burdened Heart**

_**I feel that I am weak, and prone to every sin **__– Anne Bronte_

--

**Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus**

Regina glanced over the bird-woman's shoulder as the secretary finished transcribing meeting minutes into their final form. The Speaker was always concerned whenever her normal secretary had to be gone, but the woman's replacement seemed to know what she was doing. "Very well Miss Nyuni, I'll leave you to finish typing these out," she said. "I'll want to review them before they're distributed."

A green-feathered head bowed in acknowledgement. "Yes Councilor, ah Speaker Karkolova," Nyuni replied.

From across the room, she could hear the creak of the office door as it opened. Regina's bodyguard quickly interposed himself between her and a possible threat. Councilor Jurgen stepped into the room, followed by his own guard whose glossy black feathers and reddish folds of flesh connecting chin to throat reminded the mage of a bantam rooster.

"What a pleasant surprise Freidrich," Regina said as she moved to the side of her fox-man protector. "You're just in time for morning tea."

"Thank you Regina, I wouldn't mind some," her fellow councilor replied. "However I do have business to discuss with you."

"Then let's step into my office," she suggested. Turning about, the woman noted her guard's lips were pulled back in a grin, and the Old World expression of foxes in henhouses instantly sprang to mind. It had been said that the councilor body guards were matched to their mage's personality. The little bantam certainly mirrored Freidrich. That of course meant Gijou-san …

"Don't you dare tease that chick," she whispered in warning, "or I'll singe your whiskers off myself."

--

Regina Karkolova sat on a couch, slowly stirring milk and sugar into her tea. Thoughts strayed back to that first day of school in Meldiana. Only two girls has been accepted into that year's beginning class, so one of the older, female students had been assigned to show them around. Madura was a dark-skinned girl whose parents had emigrated from India. Both the newcomers, dressed in pinned up robes, followed her into the school's communal dining hall and sat down to wait for the boys to show up.

"Would you like some tea while we wait?" their guide had asked and then took off without waiting for a reply. She shortly returned with a tray bearing three streaming mugs and a metal cup. Madura tore open a white packet and upended it over her tea, poured in milk and then stirred it all together. When asked why she went through the trouble, the girl answered "it tastes good."

And indeed it did Regina decided as she took a sip. Settling back, the Speaker of the Council of Mages glanced at her ally, Councilor Jurgen. The man from one of Orestes' most privileged families had been one of the few untouched by any hint of the scandal that forced out many of their fellows. It wasn't until after he had been installed as the replacement Internal Affairs Chairman that she realized there was a reason none of the factions had approached him before. Freidrich was a pompous idiot.

Of course he was also a stickler for procedures and protocol, which made him suited to keep a tight rein on the reorganized ministries. She thought it a shame that his greatest contribution was being a pain in the ass to the separatists when they tried to do an end run around the Council's rules of order. "So what seems to be the holdup Freidrich?" Regina asked. "I thought we had full extradition rights throughout the Confederation?"

Councilor Jurgen set his cup down, face fixed in a frown. "We do," he answered. "The problem is that four of their enforcers were attacked by a summoned demon and the High Magistrate wants that dealt with before releasing the prisoner to our custody."

"Vairocana's brand of justice may prove fatal," she remarked. Once, during her time as a bounty hunter, Regina had brought a felon back to Vairocana. The lizard-man was a cold-blooded murderer who fought every step of the way, nearly killing her twice. After turning him over to the authorities, it was easy to see why he had resisted. Vairocana didn't believe in coddling criminals and the experience so shook the woman that she never took an assignment from there again. Repressing a shudder, the Speaker continued. "Can we have interrogators talk to him first and then turn him over?"

"We would except …" her ally hesitated.

"Except what?"

"He was captured with the book," Freidrich answered. "The magic won't release him unless it's in front of the Council and bringing him here requires the High Magistrate's approval."

"I don't believe it," Regina groaned. "We're caught in a conjured catch 22."

"There might be away around the spell."

"What? Take the whole Council down there?"

"No, just you," he said and then held a hand up to stop her objection. "Hear me out Regina. As the Speaker it's your words that delivered the warrant and invoked the Harbinger's power. Your presence should be enough to release the prisoner."

The woman mulled over the idea for a few minutes and then said "Alright, let's get this over with. How quickly can we arrange for an escort and clear the gate port?"

"Anticipating your agreement, I've already started," the man replied smiling. "We should be ready at our end in two hours, but I'd say three to give our counterparts in Vairocana enough time."

"I'm counting on you to keep Mifune and those zealots in line while I'm gone."

"You transfer over, take custody of the prisoner and then come back while our interrogators question him," Councilor Jurgen remarked. "You'll be back before that separatist lot has the time to rally their troops."

Regina gazed at her ally who returned a smile brimming with confidence. "Are you familiar with the Old World Poet Robert Burns?" she asked. "He wrote a poem titled 'To a Mouse'."

"Neither sounds familiar," Councilor Jurgen answered and shrugged his shoulders.

"I didn't think so."

From her laptop's speaker came the sound indicating receipt of a new email. A fanfare of trumpets announced a message she would actually want to read. Eagerly she went over to her desk and banished the screen saver with a swish of her finger against the touch pad. Regina was glad one from Mifune or his crowd hadn't arrived; her ally would probably be scandalized by the irritated voice shouting "Oh, bugger!"

"From your smile," Freidrich commented, "I assume it is good news."

"Reasonably," she replied. "An investment paid off."

"I didn't know you dabbled in the financial markets?" the man responded. "If you'd like I can give you my advisor's name?"

"I already have one thank you," Regina told him. Once again, v-Chao's data mining had unearthed a valuable nugget and another plot was defused. A few more key strokes and an electronic payment was set up. For a moment, the mage considered a deduction since she'd have to smooth over ruffled feathers with the air authorities but decided to pay the full amount anyway. 'That woman certainly earned it.'

"Very well," the Speaker said aloud, "coordinate protection with my security chief. I know how you feel about protocol but I don't need 100 Praetorians for a quick trip."

--

Nearly three hours later, Regina stood on the transfer platform surrounded by exactly 99 Praetorians. "Oh, bugger," she muttered under her breath as one of the guards unsheathed a bundle of wooden rods secured by scarlet cords. Thirteen white birch branches bound together stood for strength through unity, and had been adopted by the Council ages ago as their symbol. This "quick trip" had degenerated into an official state visit.

"I'll strangle him myself," the woman whispered as she fumed.

Her personal bodyguard had an amused expression on his face. "Is something wrong my lady?" he asked in a perfectly normal voice, though Regina could tell the fox-man was chuckling.

"You could have warned me Gijou-san," she accused. "I detest being made a circus attraction."

"Councilor Jurgen was quite insistent that the proper impression be made," her guard replied. "He was certain the High Magistrate of Vairocana would be insulted by anything less."

"When did I become a dog and pony show?"

"I believe it was about the time you took the Speaker's oath of office."

"Biggest mistake I made."

"I'm only a servant so it isn't my place to agree or not," the fox-man remarked. "But where would the Council be now if somebody else was Speaker?"

Amber eyes regarded Regina as she chewed over that thought. After investigations revealed the extent to which Enteofushian conspirators had infiltrated the Council, only she and Mifune-san where left as viable choices. Her rival's sympathies were well known; the only way she could hold the separatists in check was by becoming the Speaker. "I don't have to like it Gijou-san."

"I know a score of Praetorians would make you more comfortable," her guard said, "but after the attempts on your life, I'd prefer a whole cohort."

Regina watched in silence as the first party, a third of the Praetorians, marched onto the platform and disappeared in a flash of green light. As energy built up for the next transfer, she walked onto the platform in the midst of thirty-three armed warriors. A tingle started in the soles of her feet and continued up until it ran the length of her body. 'I'll still strangle Freidrich,' she thought as the green light filled her eyes.

When the light faded, Regina found herself underneath a grey dome of rock. The space beneath was dark and foreboding, as if she were in a cavern deep below the ground. Over the public address barked a voice commanding them to vacate the platform for the next arrival. Dutifully, the group filed down the ramp to the holding room where the first contingent waited. With well practiced precision the Praetorians arranged themselves with the standard bearer in the lead, followed immediately by the Speaker flanked by the centurion and his second-in-command, the optio centuriae. Another flash of light and the remainder of the guards shortly joined them.

Leaden grey skies greeted the procession outside the gateport. Twenty red robed justiciars stood in ranks on either side of a solid white carriage while in front stood a tall, cadaverous figure dressed in black from head to foot, save for the white mask covering his face. A single, black feather rose from the scarf wrapped around his head. Two dragons, one milk white and the other a vivid scarlet were hitched to the carriage.

Solemnly, the black garbed figure knelt and inclined his head. "In the name of the High Magistrate," an emotionless voice intoned, "we welcome Regina Karkolova, Speaker of the Council of Mages, to Vairocana."

A gloved hand swept out, indicating the carriage. "Please accept our hospitality and honor us with your presence at the Turris Concordia."

Regina's eyes swept towards the city's center where a spire, grim and grey like the overcast sky, rose above all other structures. "On behalf of the Council, we accept the High Magistrate's invitation," she replied with equal formality.

Rising, the Magistrate's representative waved his hand and two justiciars positioned themselves on either side of the opening to the carriage. As Regina walked forward, she noted the door was painted with the city crest of a heart pierced by three swords. Below it was a golden scroll bearing the words '_luctus perfica concordia_'. Crushed velvet and leather, the same red hue as the robed attendants, covered the coach's interior. Dressed in her simple linen robe, the woman took her seat upon the bench. With a jerk, the carriage started forward.

--

**Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus**

Miss Nyuni walked into the Speaker's private office, a stack of papers carefully sorted and clipped together in her hands. Green feathers on her head shaded into a yellow-green on the pair of wings folded against her back. Placing the stack on the councilor's desk, she glanced about noting the open laptop computer in its docking station. Smiling to herself, she removed a compact disc from a pocket, inserted it into the drive and pushed the power button.

As the computer screen bloomed to life, practiced fingers typed out a series of commands to install a new operating system in the computer's memory, an operating system good for only one thing, covert data extraction. Next a flash drive was attached and the search program activated. A precomposed list of key words was pasted into the filter box and the application started. File names from the hard disk flashed across the display as each was examined for a match.

Nyuni walked away to let the scanner continue running. Hard drives anymore could take an hour or longer to check and she had other tasks to perform. Speaker Karkolova should be out for a few hours if all went as planned. That left plenty of time to finish.

--

**Vairocana, Mundus Magicus**

Despite its outward appearance, Vairocana was far from the dour and humorless image most people had. Geography made for an austere landscape and a climate that was damp and windy most days, yet the city throve with its unique mixture of human, beastman and demonic citizenry. Laws were harsh and unforgiving, but then again the level of crime here was lower than even in the hedonistic paradise of Shangri-La.

Named the Tower of Harmony, the High Magistrate's Palace looked more like a fortress. Originally it had served as the northernmost bastion of imperial power 20 centuries ago. The coach halted in front of iron-bound gates and Regina could hear the scrap of draconic nails across paving stones. She alighted from the carriage, and escorted by the customary score of guards, made her way into the palace.

Gold and scarlet, colors of the old empire, were much in evidence though they were overhung with red and white banners of an independent Vairocana. Red robed men, each bearing the justiciar's black staff, lined either side of the Great Hall and a white clad apparition, standing head and shoulders above the others, waited at the far end. Swathed in all white clothing, the High Magistrate was an imposing figure. Rumors swirled about the unnamed ruler of the city, whose face, like those of his servants, was never seen.

Their guide knelt before his master, forehead nearly touching the floor, and announced, "Her grace, Regina Karkolova, Speaker of the Council of Mages."

A slight motion of the white-robed mage's hand swiftly dismissed his servant. "Be welcome to the free city of Vairocana Speaker Karkolova," a deep voice intoned. "Rooms have been set aside for you and your attendants should you need to refresh yourselves."

"We thank you for your courtesy," Regina replied, "but business compels us to some haste."

"Then let us not hinder you," he responded. "We should adjourn to someplace private if this is agreeable?"

Her fox-man bodyguard cleared his throat and Regina smiled in return. "Relax Gijou-san," she whispered. "I'm safer with the specter over there than with my fellow councilors."

"Is that supposed to reassure me?"

"No," she answered. Accompanied by her host, Regina departed the hall for a side chamber. Inside, she found another figure clad in a travel-stained robe and hood. The stranger pulled back the hood to reveal a young woman of demonic heritage.

"I am sorry to have dragged you all this way, Speaker Karkolova," the High Magistrate told her. "But it was necessary for you to hear what this young lady has to say."

"Then all this about the prisoner?"

"Was merely a pretense to bring you here without arousing suspicion."

She glanced again at the stranger who curtsied. "My lady," the girl said.

"What is your name and what message do you bear?"

"My name is Bekus Von Herrman if it pleases my lady," the demon replied. "I bring word from my grandfather, Graf Wilhelm Von Herrman."

'Von Herrman!' A sudden fury blazed at mention of that hated name. 'That is the monster who … Owyn … Andrei … and all the others.'

Nostrils flared dangerously as the woman struggled to master her rage. "That name is not well received," she stiffly replied.

Momentarily, the youngster faltered in the face of such vehemence, but then straightened her back with resolve. "I can understand your feelings my lady," Bekus said. "But worse yet will happen."

Not giving her a chance to interrupt, the girl continued. "Those responsible for the events of seven years ago are recruiting in the demonic realms for a larger incursion in the Mundus Vetus."

"That is hardly news," Regina commented.

"No but do you know its timing?" Bekus asked. "My grandfather will provide you that information in return …"

"In return for what young lady?"

The girl's eyes dropped to the floor, not daring to look at the enraged woman. "In return for assuring my safety."

Conflicting emotions tugged Regina in a dozen different directions; however one thought was uppermost in her mind. "And what makes your safety worth his betrayal?"

"I am the last of my generation my lady, the only chance for the family to carry on," Bekus told her. "Grandfather believes you understand the strength of family ties."

--

**Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus**

Morning tasks finished, the feathered secretary looked at the clock. "A late lunch again," she snorted. Taking out her cell phone, she pressed the speed dial option and waited for an answer.

"Hello this is Wimbo," she said. "I'm on my way to the cafeteria."

After the other person responded, she replied, "See you there then," and flipped the cover closed.

Though past the traditional lunch hour, the employee cafeteria was still open and doing a steady business as late takers such as herself picked over the remaining choices. Today's bill of fare for the councilor's dining room was a choice between abalone and pepper-crusted steak. A wistful sigh escaped her lips as she decided to pass on the meat loaf and went over to the salad bar.

Tables and chairs were scattered about it the room, giving the illusion of privacy to the diners. A woman sat near the patio window with her back turned. Brown hair was cut short save for a length that extended down to her waist. "Afternoon Chiho," she greeted the investigator. "Is this seat taken?"

"I was saving it for you," the agent replied. "How's your day going Wimbo?"

"About like I expected."

"Any problems?"

"Not at all," the secretary answered as she slid the data stick across the table, where it promptly disappeared into a pocket. "In fact it's been rather restful with that body guard out of the office. Being in the same room with him gives me the shivers."

"You have nothing to worry from him," Chiho assured her. "Gijou Hoshu is a highly respected professional."

"Still, I don't think I'll accept any invitations to join him for lunch."

"This just in from Phoenicis," came the announcer's voice over the HD viewer. Conversations stopped as people turned towards the screen.

"We have just learned that a small explosion has occurred at the Global Mana Conference," the news anchor, a dark-skinned elf, read of the teleprompter. "We're switching live to our crew on site."

A woman standing outside of a building appeared on a split screen. "This is Cycilia Sevensheep live from Phoenicis." In the background, a parked ambulance was visible. "Just before Doctor Juntz Federson, author of 'Azrael's Sword', was about to address the gathered scientist, he was tackled by a member of the audience. As people were trying to disengage them, an explosion was heard from the overhead lighting system."

"Was anyone hurt," the anchor asked.

"There's been one confirmed death and one injury so far," the reported answered. "Authorities have evacuated the Gloval-Kravshera Center as a precaution."

"Any ideas on what happened Cycilia?"

"An investigation is ongoing, but I've had confirmed that an official request for assistance has been made to the Mesembrian Bureau of Investigation and a team is expected shortly."

"Thank you Cycilia," the anchor said as the split screen disappeared. "We'll be checking back as this story unfolds."

An excited chatter ran through the room as the newscast went on to the next item. "Was this another terrorist attack or an electrical short?" Wimbo asked.

"I don't know," Chiho responded. "But it has nothing to do with us."

--

**Vairocana, Mundus Magicus**

Back in the gateport, Regina waited with a burning impatience to be gone, yet outwardly she appeared to be as calm as her guards. A full contingent of 100 Praetorians stood in ordered rows awaiting return to Megalo-Mesembria. Their commanding officer said not a word when the Speaker informed him of the need of one more set of armor, and providing it was quickly returned to the unit's quartermaster, no mention would be made.

Seeing to the girl's safety was not an easy undertaking. Magic and mundane means could disguise but not erase all traces of a person, a fact Regina was all too uncomfortably acquainted with. That made the girl's comment about "understanding the strength of family ties" worrisome. Attributed to her new ward's grandfather, she had no way of determining how much Bekus or Count Wilhelm either knew or suspected.

As the first group, now at thirty-four strong, moved forward, Regina continued to ponder her best course. Tempting as it would be to keep the girl with her, a new personal attendant would draw unwanted attention. By her own admission, Bekus had once been accepted as a student in Ariadne, but was unable to attend due to familial obligations. The school could provide the anonymity of a crowd, but daily interaction with fellow students would make maintaining a cover story difficult. What was needed was a place where one more person could show up without attracting attention and would allow them to maintain discreet contact.

Light from the transfer spell flashed as Argyre occurred to her. People there were still trying to resolve the mess left by the King Enteofushia's failed schemes. The work was boring and resulted in a high turnover in personnel; however if someone wanted to disappear, then Argyre could provide a start if nothing else. 'The only better solution would be for her to become a bounty hunter,' a thought that brought a smile to the woman's lips.

--

**Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus**

Agent Masuda sat inside a shielded office, inserted the data stick into the retrieval system and prepared to wait several minutes for the catalog to build. To her amazement, it appeared after only a few seconds and more surprising was that it held a single file. 'A video file,' Chiho thought as she sat forward and stared at the monitor. 'This has to be a mistake.'

Executing the file started an animated movie that could be charitably called amateurish. In a style reminiscent of elementary students armed with boxes of crayons, a young, Chinese girl wearing a black and white suit stood surrounded by various fish in what looked like a playground. A purple octopus twirled about in merry-go-round fashion while starfish slid down a whale's back. In the background, a chorus of children's voices sang a folk song about happy, little fish under the sea.

Pressing the escape key ended the program. Chiho slumped back in the chair and pondered her next move. An extraction program crafted by the best cyber-mages had been foiled. Rumors of Speaker Karkolova's computer savviness had struck her as extravagant, but perhaps they were justified. "Very well, the first round is yours," the ninpo told her opponent. A determined grin appeared in response to an unspoken challenge. "Let's get ready for round two."

--

After finishing the latest batch of reports, Regina leaned back in a padded chair and pondered the current situation. A simple conference should not have attracted this level of violence. True, there were still many who hated Federson for his theories challenging beliefs in the differences between mages and mundanes, but hiring assassins to kill the scientist over them seemed too farfetched. Even less likely would be for those enemies to target Doctor Glimmerhorn as well. If it wasn't the individual but the conference itself targeted, who benefited?

No group had come forward to claim responsibility, so publicity didn't appear to be the reason. Even if the conference succeeded in preventing the gateways from being permanently severed, an end Regina hoped for, that wouldn't stop them from being sealed. Like a locked door, a sealed gate would allow excess energy to flow out around the edges, maintaining a level below Federson's threshold. It would be nice to chalk it up to the separatist, but then she'd be guilty of accepting simplistic answers just like her opponents.

"Who gains if the gates are severed?" she whispered as fingers messaged strained eyes. Groups like the Cabal Magicus sought domination over both worlds. They hardly seemed the ones to limit their power in such a way. Total World's adherents were still out there, but this struck the Speaker as far from their normal means. A glimmer of a thought came to her, and Regina reached out towards it. "What if the purpose is to prevent something from coming into the Mundus Magicus?"

"What could that be?" she wondered and then lost her train of thought as a respectful knock sounded.

Her guard poked his head into the room to announce the arrival of a fellow Councilor. Regina stepped outside to find an elven woman, blonde hair cropped short, waiting in the reception area. "Speaker Karkolova," the newcomer said as she bowed slightly in acknowledgement. The woman's own guard, a lean and muscular cat-man whose spotted pelt reminded Regina of a cheetah, hovered protectively behind her.

"Councilor Tir'selion," she replied. "Thank you for coming. Please step into my office."

Her fellow Councilor moved slowly, from neither arrogance nor age, but with the gait of one whose body had been broken by torture, broken but not conquered. After the Great War, the "King" of Vespetatia fled to Argyre with his supporters. When he tried to first bribe then later force his way to power there, Esmerelda Tir'selion led the opposition. In the end, she had been arrested on a fabricated charge of corruption and spent 15 years in the tender care of the King's minions. While her tormentors didn't touch the woman's face, they ravaged her body. Regina had seen the scars that required dresses with long sleeves and high collars to remain hidden.

As she held open the door, the Speaker noted a wary look on her temporary secretary's face as the bird-woman regarded both bodyguards. 'Trapped between the Devil and the deep blue sea my little fledgling,' she thought in sympathy.

"I have a favor to ask of you Councilor," she said after the exchange of pleasantries.

"You're not going to badger me into another one of those endless battles are you?" the elf wearily asked. "I really don't have the heart for it anymore."

"No, you've made your position clear," Regina answered. "And I respect your decision."

The woman waited patiently for her to continue. "I have a supporter who asked if I could help his relative with getting a job. I believe they are still cataloging the Enteofushian …" Regina stopped at the other woman's frown. "Sorry, the Teotanasian holdings for final disposition."

"And you wish me to intercede on this person's behalf?" Esmerelda asked in some surprise.

"It is a small payment I owe for a large debt," she answered. "She seems a sweet girl, eager to please. And a recently freed debt slave I understand."

The elf's expression changed at that last bit of information. "Give Monsieur Coureur her name and have her report to my office," Esmerelda said. "Is there anything else Speaker?"

"Since I can't convince you to help trounce Mifune and his lot, I suppose not."

"I've already spent my time in the trenches," the other woman replied. "I have no choice but to let others carry the battle on."

--

**Student Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

As days went, it wasn't a bad day. Her class hadn't been attacks by demons, a robot army hadn't invaded the school grounds, no one had been shot or kidnapped; heck, she nearly had all of her homework ready to turn in. No half-day Saturday classes for her. So why was Natsumi dragging up the steps to her floor in the girl's dormitory?

With the big school festival only six weeks away, the pace was beginning to pick up. Even the drama club had started. Every year they put on a big production and this afternoon's meeting was to choose a play. Like in previous year's, the outcome was predictable.

"Let's do a drama," someone suggested.

Natsumi immediately thought of 'King Lear.' It was such a moving tale of family loyalty and betrayal set against a dynastic struggle. The club could even borrow a Kurosawa's idea and make it a Japanese period piece.

"But not Shakespeare again," another person complained. "We did 'A Midsummer's Night Dream' last year."

She deflated at that comment. 'But I like Shakespeare,' the freckled actress thought.

"I'd like to do something historical," a boy her age suggested.

Camus' play of the Roman Tyrant Caligula came to mind at that. A benevolent ruler at the beginning who slowly turns into the embodiment of the corruption he abhors. A pageant of togas, armor, spears and plumed helmets moved in stately procession before her eyes.

"How about a musical?"

Natsumi thought of 'Grease' and began to hum a few bars of 'Summer Nights.' If only her singing was good enough for one of the more important roles.

"Why not something traditional?" another opined.

Zeami's 'Well Cradle' leapt to mind. Natsumi loved those old songs and she could at least dance half-way well.

"What do you think we should do Murakami-san?" the club president asked.

"Me?" she replied in surprise. All those wonderful ideas vanished into a hazy background as the president's question echoed in a recently vacated space. "I, um, don't know; whatever you all decide is fine with me."

Memories of freezing up brought a frown of disgust to her face. 'I did it again,' Natsumi admitted. Though scared out of her wits, the student was the first to stand before the headmaster and say she would stay at Mahora in spite of the danger. In San Francisco she had thrown herself in front of her roommate when the girl had been threatened by a gunman. Why couldn't she express an opinion in front of her club?

"I bet Chizu-nee wouldn't be intimidated," the red-headed girl muttered. In many ways she admired her roommate. Chizuru was pretty of course, but also confident, poised and decisive. She also envied the other girl's impressive bust size. Gazing down the front of her blouse Natsumi sighed, "I wish I was more noticeable."

'Maybe I could pretend to be more like her,' the actress considered. 'Like playing a role.'

Chizuru was in the small kitchen when she walked into the room. "I was putting away the leftovers before going to my club," the girl explained in her normally cheerful manner. "Your meeting ran a little long today."

"We're trying to select a play for this year's festival," Natsumi replied.

"So which one are you doing?"

"Ooh dumplings," she exclaimed while picking one up by a wooden skewer. "We haven't decided yet."

Biting into the morsel, she was rewarded by the still warm filing of meat and vegetables. "This is so good."

"We go through this every year," she said between bites. "A lot of valuable time is wasted arguing."

"What we need is period piece that's a musical drama," Natsumi explained. 'I wish I knew somebody who could help us find one of those."

"Maybe you do," Chizuru told her. "What about that boy we met at the studio?"

While touring a movie studio during their class trip, Natsumi had fallen sick. As she waited outside the washroom for her, Chizuru had met a young actor by the name of Kenny Bryce. "Well that's a nice idea," she replied, "but how am I going to ask him?"

The auburn-haired girl opened her purse and after a minute of digging, pulled out a piece of lined paper. Natsumi took the scrap from her roommate and looked down at an email address. "Where did you get this?"

"He gave it to me while we were waiting for you to come back out of the ladies' room."

"Here." The red-haired girl shook her head and held the paper out. "This is too much like giving out his phone number."

"How about if I send him an email asking if it's alright to give it to you?"

"That should be okay."

"I'll have to use your email," Chizuru told her. "I had my account cancelled."

When asked why, her roommate explained that she had started receiving emails asking for sex. "I've never met these people," the teen complained in a weary tone. "Where they got the idea I was like that, I haven't a clue."

As her computer powered up, Natsumi decided that maybe being noticeable had some disadvantages too. Chizuru rapidly composed her message and pressed the send key. "I think it's morning in Los Angeles, but hopefully Bryce-san will reply soon," the girl said. Looking at her watch, she suddenly exclaimed, "I need to get to my club meeting."

"So what are you training your telescope on tonight?" Natsumi asked.

"Mercury is in its best position this time of year," Chizuru answered as she pulled a sweater around her shoulders. "And starting next month we'll be able to view Uranus and other outer planets."

Tapping a finger against her chin, the astronomy club member looked thoughtful. "I wonder if I should invite Kotaro-kun to a meeting," the girl said. "Or that Mihai-kun he was with the other day."

"I don't know about that," Natsumi hesitantly replied. "Do you think a couple of elementary-age boys would want to spend the evening staring through a telescope?"

"You'll never know if you don't ask," her roommate remarked. "Besides, a lot of boys have joined the club over the past three years."

'Bet it wasn't to see Uranus,' she thought as the other girl departed.

Ten minutes later, Natsumi had completed the corrections her English teacher recommended for her paper and was saving the file when she noticed a new email had arrived. She clicked on the link and read the following:

'_Chizuru,_

_Please excuse my using you first name, but that's the common way in America. I'd be happy to help your friend out so go ahead and let her have the address. Do you have a youhoo account? I'd like to talk with you and IM would be so much easier. My account name is kibbles._

_Kenny'_

After wrestling over how to respond, the red-haired student started the messenger service and was soon gazing at '_Kibbles says: Hi_,' followed by a little, smiley face. Natsumi typed in '_Kibbles?_' and pressed the send button.

'_Kibbles says: It's a school nickname lol. Does haiyuuko stand for anything special?'_

'_Haiyuuko says: Haiyuu is a word for actress and ko means girl.'_

'_Kibbles says: Are you into acting?'_

Natsumi began to type an explanation when a devilish Natsumi popped onto her shoulder. "What's the harm in letting him think you're Chizu-nee for a little while?" Her head twisted to gaze expectantly at the opposite shoulder.

"Miss Goody Two Shoes is probably out getting her halo polished," the little devil girl laughed. "Looks like you're facing this moral dilemma on your own."

"I couldn't deceive him," she declared. "He just agreed to help me."

"You're not deceiving him," the other Natsumi countered. "He jumped to conclusions."

"Think of all the attention Chizu-nee gets already," the seductive voice whispered. "Even Kotaro-kun ignores you when she's around."

Natsumi swallowed hard as the bat-winged imp continued, "Consider this practice. You're only playing a role."

Still her hand hesitated over the keyboard until the final barbed comment jabbed deeply, "You did wish to be noticed didn't you?"

'_Haiyuuko says: This is Natsumi's account.'_

'_Kibbles says: Oh. I wanted to send you some cast photos. Would it be okay to send them to your friend's email?'_

'_Haiyuuko says: She won't mind.'_

'_Kibbles says: It's great to have a best friend like that.'_

Hands trembled as she typed '_Yes it is_' in response.

--

**Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus**

Today had been a busy day at the Concilium Magnus as an unplanned state visit by the Speaker and a "terrorist" attack in Phoenicis accelerated an already chaotic pace to feverish levels. Koyomi had been afraid that she'd be stuck at the office all evening. The cat-girl hurried back to her apartment and still barely arrived in time as a jet-black manta started to pull away from the curb.

While convenient to the Council's offices, her apartment's neighborhood was definitely at the low end of the scale. Quite a come down after enjoying life in a successful music band, yet acceptable for her cover. However, the seedy building the manta stopped in front of didn't qualify as low end; it had dropped completely off the scale. "You want room 32G," the driver told her. "I'll be back in exactly one hour and I'm not sticking around if you aren't here."

Koyomi could feel unseen eyes watch as the vehicle pulled away. Being a trained mage was no guarantee of safety so she quickly sought refuge in the dilapidated building. Threadbare carpet and peeling wallpaper adorned the lobby. Stale smoke, rotted food and other, less savory smells assaulted her nose as the cat-girl resisted the urge to retch. If the building had a manager, there was no sign of where he might be found.

Though she pushed the button for the elevator several times, there was no response. Not wanting to waste any more time, the cat-girl found the stairs and started climbing. Shadows gathered in the corners of the poorly lit stairwell and Koyomi softly chanted the beginnings of a spell should anything leap out of them. Refuse was littered about and warily she stepped to avoid the scattered piles of what the girl dared not guess.

'What a hell hole,' the ministra thought as she escaped the stairwell. A cold anger gripped her gut as she thought of Tamaki living in such squalid surroundings. Anger that made the girl want to raze it to the ground, reducing all to a dust pile. 'I swear I'll get you out of here.'

Her knock was answered by a man with beady eyes and thick, rubbery lips. His gaze swept hungrily over her as a leer spread across his face. "Want something sweetie?" he asked, his breath reeking of curry and cheap wine.

"I'm here to see Tamaki-san," Koyomi answered with as cold of an expression as she could muster. "Ikoma-sama sent me."

Stepping back, the leering man opened the door further. "C'mon in."

Another man sat at a small table, holding a bowl in front of his face as he shoveled a mouthful of noodles in. Curly, black hair feel down the stranger's shoulders and light glinted from large, hoop earring dangling from his right ear. He stopped chewing long enough to comment, "Nice eye candy Snaps. What's a babe like her doing here?"

"The boss sent her to check on our lil' playmate," the first man responded. "Follow me."

While not the dump the rest of the building was, Koyomi's anger still ran high; stoked as it was by the attitude of the scum holding her friend. 'Eye candy am I?' she thought. 'You'll be lucky to keep your eyes much longer.'

Her guide knocked on a door fitted with a sliding bolt on the outside. "Hey princess," he said loudly. "You got company."

Koyomi watched with a rapidly beating heart as the bolt was shoved aside. A dark room lay beyond the open door. "Take your time sweetie," the thick lipped guard told her. "Just give a shout when you're ready to leave."

She stepped just inside the room and let her eyes adjust to the gloom. Behind her, the door closed, followed by the sound of a bolt sliding home. A thought that she was trapped came to her, that this was all a scheme to get her to walk willingly into a cage. "**Luceo**," she said quietly and a ball of light hovered above her palm in response. In its glow, Koyomi saw her friend seated on a stool in the center of the room. A blanket was pulled tightly around Tamaki's shoulders and the dragon-girl's eyes were shut.

Koyomi knew that a horn was missing, but the sight still caused her to gasp. "Tamaki," she whispered.

"You shouldn't have come," the other girl replied. The cat-girl could hear the raw edge of grief in her friend's voice. Tamaki's cheeks glistened in the light. "I don't want you to see my shame."

Floor boards creaked as she moved close enough to touch the dragon-girl. Hesitantly, Koyomi lifted her hand and cupped her friend's cheek. Tamaki clutched the hand tightly and shuddered as tears flowed freely. Without further words, the cat-girl placed her arm behind the other girl's back and fiercely hugged her.

--

**A/N: My thanks to the usual suspects for their help, including Theru-sama, the Original Train Station-tan. **

**Chapter heading and title are from the poem 'Confidence' by Anne Bronte. The Robert Burns poem mentioned is the one with the well know line about the best laid plans.**

**The Fasces was used in Roman times as a symbol of the Republic. It was later appropriated by Benito Mussolini for the Italian Fascist Party. A centurion was a Roman officer who originally commanded 100 troops, but that number changed over the years. A cohort also changed in number over time but is thought to be around 500 men.**

**optio centuriae – chosen of the centurion, a centurion's chosen lieutenant**

**Turris Concordia – Tower of Harmony**

**luctus perfica concordia - sorrow perfecting harmony**

**Youhoo instant messenger is not a typing error but a wholly fictitious name.**


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: And so my sojourn to Washington DC has come to an end. The past year has been momentous for many reasons, not the least being more than 120 thousand words written. Of course, the past three months have been productive, but I look to fewer updates as I go back to the normal pace of life.**

**Both "Negima" and Shirai from "Love Hina" are owned by Ken Akamatsu. Cycilia Sevensheep was created by Makuhari-Fan01 and appears with his permission. Other characters are of my invention.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, '_reading_', _memories_

**A Villain's Tale**

_**My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, and every tongue brings in a several tale, and every tale condemns me for a villain**__ – William Shakespeare_

--

**Mahora, Japan**

Stepping off the train had brought back unpleasant memories of his previous time at Mahora. A simple kidnapping had gone terribly wrong and Koichi not only lost the girl he was to snatch, but his men as well. He had no idea at the time what could have turned seven men into drooling idiots, however, there was no doubt that failure would have cost the former yakuza more than a finger tip. Mahora had stolen both the man's pride and future; he relished the thought of revenge.

One of the girls in the picture he'd been given walked towards a small complex surrounding a single building that rose tower-like above a screen of trees. A pair of black rimmed glasses perched on her nose and the strap of a laptop bag was slung over one shoulder. Her clothing was rather conservative, even dull, compared to the flashy lingerie she wore in the photograph with her classmates.

Alongside her walked a taller girl with green hair whose movements seemed jerky in comparison to his target. Koichi guessed her to be another student and wondered at the odd protuberances on either side of the girl's head. "Kids," he muttered under his breath. "Gotta be some new fad."

Though he kept a discreet distance, the man could see that they chatted with each other. No doubt they were discussing the latest fashions, hair styles or pop music groups like any other teenagers. Outside the building, they passed a sign that read '_Okabe Hall University Technical Department_.' Pausing just inside the entry doors, he watched the pair step up to the information desk and speak with an attendant.

Koichi waited for them to pass out of sight and then walked over to the desk. "Excuse me but did you see two girls pass by?" he asked while holding up some folded bills. "I think one of them dropped this money."

"You just missed them," the clerk answered. "They're on their way to the decompression chamber, ninth floor, room 912."

--

Resembling a fat, white sausage, the decompression chamber took up nearly half of the room. Chisame watched as Hakase closed the steel cylinder's hatch, sealing the robot inside. Glancing in one of the round windows set into its side, she saw her roommate seated patiently on a canvas bench. "So what are you checking Hakase-san?"

The pig-tailed student, nicknamed "the mad scientist" of class 1A, secured the lock and stepped over to an instrument panel. "I'm working on a new aquatic mode for Chachamaru and want to see how stressed her systems would be at a depth of 150 meters," the girl in the lab coat answered. "This chamber will simulate the pressure of deep water."

"That's not going to hurt her is it?"

"Chachamaru's body can withstand far greater pressure that you or I could," Hakase answered. "Her internal circuitry is a different matter."

"I'm going to start the compressor," Hakase said through the chamber's intercom. "We'll start first at the equivalent of 75 meters under water."

Chisame heard the constant chug of an electric motor as air was pumped into the cylinder. "I've been meaning to ask you something since the class trip," the web idol remarked. "On the last upgrade you gave Chachamaru a … um …"

"You're talking about genitalia right?" her classmate asked. Blushing, Chisame merely nodded her head.

"I was surprised last year to discover Chachamaru had acquired personality traits quite different from her original program," Hakase explained. "Even to the point of developing a crush, like you, on Negi-sensei."

"I don't have a crush on him," she hotly denied.

"Then why were you going to peek inside Chao's family history?"

"I was curious. That's all."

"And was it curiosity that drove you, realist that you claim to be, to follow him and the others into a fantasy world?" To that, Chisame offered no reply other than to blush harder.

"Given a million years I doubt I could write a program that could encompass friendship, but look at the relationship you two have," Hakase continued. "I wanted Chachamaru to able to experience the full spectrum of human emotions; even sexual, if she so chooses."

"How do expect a machine to understand about sex?"

"The same way any of us do."

"What if the … experience falls short of expectations?"

"Isn't that the same risk we all face?" Hakase asked in return. "You called her a machine yet show more concern for Chachamaru than you would a mere microwave. Think hard Hasegawa-san; do you consider her any bit less human than yourself?"

'Of course she's a machine, with wires and transistors,' Chisame thought, remember how the cavity inside the robot's chest looked. 'She even needs to be wound up with a key.'

Then it hit the girl that no one, herself included, referred to Chachamaru as an 'it'. They all used 'she' or 'her' when talking about the robotic student. 'But being human requires flesh and blood,' Chisame thought, 'not molded plastic and wires.' Yet if that was true, what did it matter that the robot had more human-like features? Why worry about expectations? And why would she consider the gynoid a friend?

"Ludicrous! Preposterous!" she would have labeled such a though only a year ago. How strange that no other word than friendship could define their relationship.

Hakase pressed the intercom button again to check on how Chachamaru was doing before increasing the pressure again. "Now I'd like you to answer my question," the pig-tailed scientist said. "What are your plans after high school?"

"I haven't given it much thought," Chisame answered. "I figured I'd do something internet related."

"What about starting a business?" the other girl asked. "They way you've marketed Chiu-chan shows me you have the instincts for it."

"Chiu?"

"Don't take me for an idiot Hasegawa-san," Hakase told her. "It's quite obvious that you are Chiu-chan's creator."

"Why the sudden interest in my plans?"

"Using what I've learned from Chao, I'm going to start a robotics company," her classmate explained. "I even have some of the financial backing lined up, but what I lack is that genius for promotion you seem gifted with."

The web idol stared back, not comprehending what she heard. "Are you asking me to handle an advertising campaign?"

"Actually a bit more than that," Hakase answered. "I'm offering you a full partnership, a chance to get in on the ground floor of an industry that has an unlimited potential."

Memories came back to her …

_As Negi's students fought for a peek at sensei's future, his self proclaimed descendant lifted gracefully into the air._

"_About what you do with the future technologies, it's just like what we agreed on," Chao told Hakase._

_Her conspirator bowed her head in understanding. "Everything," Hakase said, "is under control, Chao-san."_

"This is that unfinished business Chao-san spoke of before vanishing," she accused.

"It could be," the girl responded, "but I do have my own hopes and dreams for the future."

"Don't bother with a decision now, but give it some thought," Hakase said. "At the moment, we should all concentrate on being around to graduate high school."

Eventually, the pressure test was done and Hakase took Chachamaru next door to run some diagnostic checks. Meanwhile, Chisame remained behind trying to sort out the jumble of thoughts rattling around in her head. The teen idol had never banked on winning the Negi sweepstakes, in fact she had done as much as possible to maintain her distance from the boy wizard and his other partners since their return from the Mundus Magicus. Recent events only served to confirm the wisdom of keeping them at arm's length. However if being a permanent partner wasn't going to happen, what did that leave?

Licensing her Chiu persona had, amazingly, made money; while it enabled the girl to upgrade her equipment, it wasn't enough to make a living with. In the midst of all this reflection, a pang of hunger reminded her that it had been hours since breakfast.

Chisame walked down the hall to a small alcove to where vending machines were located. A bag of biscuits featuring a panda on the foil wrapping dropped into the open slot. Footsteps sounded behind her as she bent to pick up the package and then she knew no more.

Pain in the back of her head greeted the student as she slowly regained consciousness. A soft fabric yielded beneath her as eyes opened to a white ceiling illuminated by light streaming in through round windows. Ears caught a steady hiss of air. Did she faint and somebody carry her to a cot?

"Oh my God!" she cried as she glanced about. Quickly Chisame stood and then reeled from the sudden motion. She was trapped inside the decompression chamber and air was being pumped in. The door refused to budge and the windows were too thick to break. 'My card,' she thought and started patting her pockets. A pactio card could be used to contact Negi and the little squirt could teleport her out, or at least get help here. 'Where is it?'

A sick feeling came over her as she continued searching, until the girl glanced out one of the ports. On the chair she'd been sitting on all morning was stacked her laptop case and card. "No!" she gasped as eardrums began to ache from the mounting pressure. "Oh no!"

--

Chachamaru sat in a chair with her chest panel open and two cables plugged into her IO ports. Her co-inventor watched intently as data flowed across a monitor, indicating the completion and results of each of the diagnostic checks performed.

"Good, good," Hakase murmured. "No problem there."

"Hakase-san," the gynoid called, causing the other to glance away from the screen.

"What is it?"

"I have been considering my latest upgrade," the robot answered. "After analysis I find some of the modifications are impractical."

"Which modifications are you talking about?"

Gears rotated faster, generating excess heat for filaments to carry away. In order to allow Chachamaru to wear her hair up, Hakase had rerouted those filaments so that they terminated in the outer levels of her synthetic skin. Cheeks reddened in response to the increased volume of heat escaping, giving the illusion of blushing. "I believe you referred to them as 'the dirty parts'."

"Oh," the pig-tailed girl replied knowingly. "Why would you think they're impractical?"

"I have made a preliminary study of their uses," Chachamaru responded, "and can find no evidence to suggest utilization for those purposes has any sort of probability of occurring."

"What sort of study did you do?"

"I have checked pertinent material available in the library as well as online sources," the robotic student answered. "And Haruna-san also allowed me access to her manga collection."

"Haruna-san's collection may not constitute a full or accurate view of the subject," Hakase pointed out.

"It is quite extensive."

"That may be true, and you might learn something worthwhile," her co-creator replied, "but manga is primarily an entertainment not informational media."

"Would you suggest further investigation then?"

"By all means," Hakase responded. "Curiosity about such things is a normal, developmental milestone. Alright Chachamaru, let's test your audio input next."

As the gynoid adjusted her sound filters, she became aware of a noise from the adjoining room. "Didn't you turn the chamber's compressor off?"

--

"_I come from the future," her classmate admitted not too long into their first year of middle school. From the first day they had met, it was evident that Lingshen Chao had a brilliant intellect. Hakase knew she had found somebody who was a match for her in the classroom. "I'm here to avert a disaster."_

_Regardless of how brilliant the Chinese exchange student was, there wasn't time for tall tales. "How very interesting," she replied. "Now if you excuse me, I have work to do."_

"_You're making a robot for that little, vampire girl in class." Chao wore a big grin as she made the statement._

_Who Evangeline MacDowell was and the fact that the wanted mage was at Mahora were both closely guarded secrets. That this girl knew something indicated her new classmate could be a serious threat; but how could Hakase accept claims of time travel? Surprisingly, all it took was a small scrap book of yellowing news clippings._

'_2019 – Tokyo, Japan_' the heading read. '_Hakase Satomi, co-founder and CEO of Robotic Evolutions Incorporated, announced the purchase of US based Trinity Propulsion Systems from the Carlson Media Group. "This acquisition will enable us to further advance AI controlled navigation to levels far surpassing the GPS revolution earlier this century," the award winning scientist declared. "I predict that the generation born today will benefit from the total synthesis of human creativity with the computing power of the microprocessor." The deal, a combination of cash and preferred stock, is believed to exceed 100 Billion US Dollars._'

_Anybody armed with a laptop and a word processor could fake a news story, but how would they get newsprint that tests confirmed was 50, 80 or even 100 years old to print them on? And then extensive research was needed on classmates not even met to write plausible stories. Yukihiro-san would serve as Finance and later Foreign Minister in the Japanese cabinet. Sasaki-san would be named as coach of the Woman's Rhythmic Gymnastics Team for the Olympics in Mumbai, India. Murakami-san would receive the Palm d'Or for best film at the Cannes Festival._

"_Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth," Hakase had muttered._

"_Arthur Conan Doyle, right?" Chao had asked._

"_Have you read his stories?"_

"_No, but my younger sister really liked Sherlock Holmes."_

"_Your sister has good taste," Hakase remarked. "Or maybe that should be she will have good taste."_

In the present, Hakase flipped open her cell phone and stared at Chisame. They had found their classmate unconscious in the pressurized chamber and immediately began decompression. Chachamaru laid her friend on a cot as the gynoid began monitoring vital signs. This was a deliberate murder attempt she knew, but what to do?

"I'm going to have to call Kuzunoha-san about this," she announced.

"Negi-sensei should be contacted as well," the robot responded just as Chisame murmured something.

"Is Hasegawa-san alright?"

"Help me," the web idol murmured and grabbed hold of Chachamaru like a drowning person would her rescuer. "Please help me."

Gently, the robot placed her arms about the injured girl and held her like a mother would a small child. In a soothing voice she assured her friend, "You're safe."

'A million years? No, never,' Hakase thought as a feeling not unlike maternal pride filled her.

--

Soft, fleecy clouds drifted across a brilliant blue sky as the couple enjoyed a Saturday picnic. "This is really good," the young man said as he lifted the last bite full to his mouth. Konoka beamed with pleasure from his praise. They had made plans after Monday's date to meet again, yet the girl hadn't been sure that a picnic would work out. None of her other dates had wanted to do something as simple as sit on a blanket and have lunch. This was also the first opportunity she had to fix a meal for one.

"I'm glad you like it," the girl replied and then noticed a single rice grain stuck to the side of his mouth. A smile appeared in response to a sudden bit of inspiration.

"Is something wrong?" Shirai asked as she moved close to him.

"Don't move," Konoka said as her face drew next to his. Her date's back and shoulders stiffened as her lips gently touched his skin and deftly removed the stray piece of rice. "All done," she announced, her breath blowing against a flushed cheek.

A note of strain was detectable in his voice as the young man asked, "May I breath now?" and proceeded to exhale deeply. "Um, what …?"

"You had a bit of food on the side of your face," Konoka explained.

"O … okay," Shirai responded as his eyes gazed down on the valley where Mahora sat. "I wanted to know if you'd like to come to Tokyo next weekend. I thought you might like to go shopping in the Shinjuku district, maybe catch a movie."

"That sounds like fun," she replied. "But isn't the Kabuki-cho, where all those love hotels are, right next to it?"

"We certainly wouldn't be going there," the young man quickly answered. "Actually, I was hoping to introduce you to my grandparents. They own a flower shop not too far from the train station."

"My grandmother in particular wants to meet you," Shirai continued. "I didn't know it until recently, but she attended high school here."

Another difference Konoka noted, the others hadn't asked her to meet their parents, but then this was the first time for a second date. "I'd like that very much." The girl wondered how Shirai meeting her family would go. Remembering her classmates' surprise at seeing her home, she hoped he wasn't too easily overawed. And then there was another, little matter.

"What do you think of fortune telling?"

He looked surprised by the sudden shift in subject. "I haven't given it much thought, but most of it strikes me as designed to tell desperate people what they want to hear," Shirai answered. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm the president of the fortune telling club."

"Of course I believe in keeping an open mind."

"Glad to hear it," Konoka remarked. "Give me your hand."

The mage bent over the hand and intently studied the lines etched into the man's palm. "This is called your life line," the brown-haired girl said while lightly tracing the groove. "It is fairly long and uninterrupted which is a good sign."

"And this one indicates success in your endeavors," she continued to point out. "And this says you are a kind, caring individual who will devote himself to the happiness of those important to you."

"You can tell all that from my hand?"

"The outside of the body reflects who we are inside," she explained.

"Do you read anything besides palms?"

A mischievous grin appeared in response. "Maybe some other time."

--

**Kansai Temple, Kyoto Japan**

Furor over first Amagasaki's escape, then Setsuna's trial followed by Tsukuyomi turning out to be a shikigami had finally begun to die down. Only a plague of frogs was missing from the mix. Slowly Eishun sipped the tea, letting its delicate flavor play over his tongue. "I have a second cup," the swordsman said without glancing up.

A man dressed in a tattered robe, bearing a staff shaped into a lightning bolt, stepped from the shadows. His hood was down, revealing an unruly mop of reddish-brown hair that neither brush nor comb had ever been able to tame. Nagi leaned his staff against the wall and knelt on the opposite side of the table as Eishun poured.

"It's been a while," the leader of the Kansai Magic Association observed in a calm voice that belied the deep bonds of friendship between the men. "How have you been?"

"Drunk," the man simply answered and then picked up the tiny porcelain cup. "And you?"

"Bogged down with tedious paperwork. What brings you to Kyoto?"

"I heard a former acquaintance of ours was going to pay a visit," the mage replied, wearing that cocky grin of his. "So I stopped by to say hello."

Eishun immediately pictured the great swathes of forest turned into so much kindling. "I hope our mutual friend was properly grateful."

"He didn't appear happy to see me," Nagi replied with a grin. "You'd have thought I ruined his day."

"I've noticed you have that effect on a lot of people."

That roguish smile faded as his guest asked, "Where is Anna buried?"

"I don't know," the swordsman answered. "According to what I heard, she was found by the Cocolova's shortly after the attack and they rushed her to the nearest hospital."

"It was fortunate that Andrei and Deirdre had timed their visit for then," he continued. "I assumed they took her body back to Wales when they returned with Negi."

"I'd like the name and address of that hospital."

"Of course," Eishun responded. "Are you planning on visiting Negi?"

"I already had a chat with him though I don't believe he realizes it," the man said. "It's still too dangerous for me to be hanging around."

"He's been facing danger regularly since arriving at Mahora," the swordsman informed him. "I'm amazed at that boy's growth."

"I know. I got to see him in action during the Ostian Tournament," Nagi said proudly. "I recognized some of Rakan's technique but who's been training him at Mahora? Al? Takamichi?"

"Eva-san." Eishun repressed a grin as tea spewed from his friend's mouth, staining the dusty robe.

"What?" the man coughed. "Eva?"

"Up until last month," he replied, his expression turning serious again. "The Cabal killed her."

"I heard," Nagi's said as his expression changed to one of grief. His friend's head slumped forward as the mage groaned, "I've made a mess of everything."

--

**University Hospital, Kyoto Japan**

An incessant squeal filled the corridor as a white coated attendant pushed an empty gurney down the corridor. Some of the nurses in the ICU commented among themselves how handsome he seemed despite the unkempt appearance of his hair. As he passed the closed administration office door, the man paused and glanced in both directions down the hallway. "**Pateo**," he said in a low voice and door silently swung inward. A ball of bluish-white light materialized at another softly spoken word, and humming to himself, he approached one of the computer terminals left on overnight. A quick check of the immediate area revealed an account name and password taped to the underside of the counter.

Fingers clicked rapidly on the keyboard, entering 'Springfield' and several variations. Having no success, he tried 'Adenauer'. "Bingo," Nagi whispered as the name Anna Adenauer appeared. A pregnant woman by that name was admitted after sustaining injuries in a house fire in August of 1993. Baby Boy Adenauer was born three months later and both were released to relatives by the name of Cocolova. 'Released?' Nagi thought. Their bills were paid in full and a London address given. His search was interrupted when the doorknob rattled.

A beam from an electric torch illuminated empty cubicles as the light swept over the office. After a thorough search, the guard called in the unsecure door and then locked it on his way out. After several minutes more, the monitor's energy saving mode activated and the screen turned black.

**--**

**Phoenicis, Mundus Magicus**

"I'm sorry but we don't give out any information on our guests," a peeved looking desk clerk informed her.

"All I want to know is whether they've checked out," Cycilia stated but the other woman only replied by staring at her blouse. Glancing down she asked, "Is something wrong?"

"You have a spot."

"Where?"

"Right there."

"I don't see anything," the reporter remarked.

"It's as plain as day," the clerk responded. A hand reached up as if to brush a bit of lint away. "Let me get it for you."

A voice called out "Miss Sevensheep" and she turned her back to the helpful woman.

"Mister Akashi," Cycilia returned his greeting while behind her the clerk muttered something in a frustrated tone. "I was afraid you two might have already left Phoenicis."

"To be truthful," the professor replied, "we haven't found a transport yet."

"Perhaps I can be of assistance then," the sheep-eared woman said. "I also have an invitation to deliver."

"Invitation?"

"Mister Akashi," the desk clerk called. "Are you're heading back to your room?"

Without waiting for an answer, the horned woman piled several envelopes and pieces of paper on the counter. "Here's another stack for your associate."

Entering the hotel room, she saw the young man seated at a table, reading a letter written on blue stationary. "That was quick sensei," Oishi said and then stood as he recognized the reporter. "Hello."

"Here's more fan mail," Akashi announced as he dumped the new stack atop the other. One of the envelopes, a pink one with little hearts stamped on it, had an Ariadne postmark. Before Cycilia could take a closer look, the professor asked, "What's was this about an invitation?"

"Oh, the convention is holding a formal reception this evening and you've both been invited as honored guests," Cycilia informed the pair. "I believe Miss Nekome is looking forward to seeing you again."

If she expected him to show some enthusiasm, the young man disappointed her. "I'm afraid I'll have to pass."

"Nonsense," his sensei responded. "You don't often get the finest minds of a world together. This is too good of an opportunity to ignore."

"I didn't bring any formal attire," Oishi remarked.

"That's easily remedied," the older man pointed out. "Miss Sevensheep, we'll be there."

"You also mentioned something about transportation to Ariadne," Akashi reminded the woman."

"The Crescent Hawk is an independent freighter," Cycilia told them. "I'm flying back on it tomorrow and its captain assures me there's room for a few more passengers."

--

Glowing orbs set on metal posts spaced evenly apart lent a sense of sameness with Paris along the Seine. He guessed all cities had those sections away from the bright lights and neon, where one could take a stroll and not feel as if you were in a carnival midway. Up ahead, Professor Akashi walked with the reporter from Ariadne, leaving him as sullen company for the bounty hunter.

"You know Kuro," Cintilla said, "I can only apologize so many times for dragging you into that broom closet."

"That's not the problem," Hiro replied.

"So what is?"

"Come on, we should catch up."

Stopping suddenly, the neko-woman grabbed hold of his arm. "No!" she said sharply. "I want an answer."

Hiro stared at her glowering face under the street lamp. He was going to shake off her hand and walk on, but something in the bounty hunter's eyes made him reconsider. "Have you ever read a story where an ordinary guy wakes up one day and finds suddenly he's wealthy or famous? People see him totally different than they did yesterday, different than he really is?" he asked and waited for her return nod and so what look. "Well I'm stuck in this fantasy."

"I have complete strangers telling me what a fine person I am, wanting to do magazine articles on me, inviting me to speak before their civic groups," he said in a rising voice that kept just below a shout. "One woman even asked if I'd consider becoming a partner for her daughter who's a mage in training."

"I don't mind having my ego stroked," Hiro continued, "so having girls mail me their panties …"

"Who mailed you a pair of panties?"

"I don't remember, but the point is that this is all a lie," the assassin answered as he remembered Ayaka's face at the hospital. He had helped rescue the girl's friend from a gang of kidnappers and she saw him as some sort of white knight. "But it's a very seductive lie."

He had been paid to kill Ayaka by one of her father's enemies and had charmed her enough to get close. While on a boat ride, Hiro had resolved to carry out the contract but found himself unable to. Those eyes of hers beheld a hero and for that moment, he wanted nothing more than for it to be true. "And when you want to believe that lie yourself …"

"Sounds like you need blow off some steam," Cintilla remarked, her hand now lightly resting on him. "Let's catch up with the others."

"What do you have in mind?"

"There's a little bar not too far away," she answered with a grin. "It's perfect for stress relief."

--

Music spilled out through the open door, filling the street with a loud and raucous beat. Inside the bar's dimly lit and smoky interior, patrons jostled each other at the bar or around one of the pool tables. Hiro glanced about, thinking that if Final Fantasy ever had a biker bar, it would look like this place. One of the pool players apparently missed a shot as his opponent gave a short bark of laughter. In response, the fellow, who reminded the assassin of a rhinoceros standing on its hind legs, grunted and swung the stick against the table edge; a crack sounded as the stick snapped in two.

"Charming," Cycilia muttered.

"I thought you'd get a kick out of this place," Cintilla said above the noise. "I see an open table. Follow me."

As the group walked by, several males gave the two women appreciative stares. A customer at the bar signaled his approval with a piercing whistle. A long, pink tongue lolled out of a canine-like face provoking laughter from others nearby. "I was thinking I'm overdressed," the reporter commented as they sat down. "Now I wonder if I shouldn't have on a suit of armor."

"Do you want to leave?" the professor asked.

"We'll only stay for one drink," the neko-woman assured them. "Why don't you order me a Granicus Smasher Kuro?"

"That sounds interesting," Cycilia remarked. "I'll try one as well."

"I think I'll stick to a vodka martini," the professor said.

"You want that shaken or stirred sensei?"

"In here, I'll just settle for a clean glass."

As Hiro walked up to the bar, Cycilia gazed about with a frown forming on the woman's face. "Is something wrong?" Akashi asked.

"Is it my imagination," the sheep-eared woman responded, "or are you two the only humans in here?"

Navigating to the only gap at the bar, the assassin found himself between the whistler, a fellow with a face like a Siberian husky and a red bandana tied around his forehead, and a lizard-man with dark green scales. "Hey tender," he called.

From behind, a gruff voice growled "You're in my spot punk!"

Spinning about, Hiro faced a man covered in tan fur with large, brown splotches. Two small, knobby horns stuck up from the speaker's forehead. "I didn't know this was your spot," he replied, noting that customers nearby were edging away. "I was just ordering some drinks."

"Well you are in my spot you smooth-skinned punk," the angry customer responded.

"You got nerve trying to move in on our turf," the dog-faced man added.

"How about I buy the next round for you three?" Hiro asked as a forked tongue slithered out of the lizard-man's mouth.

Back at the table, Professor Akashi uttered a curse and started to stand when Cintilla beat him up. "I'll take care of things," she said.

"Uh Miss Nekome …"

"Don't worry professor," she quickly replied. "I can be diplomatic when the occasion calls for it."

Hiro's eyes darted around as the spotted man laughed, "You come in here wearing your fancy clothes, acting like you own the joint." Fingers reached out and flicked his bow tie. "You ain't gonna buy your way out of this."

Turning towards the lizard-man, the assassin slapped a hand on the counter and chuckled, "I've seen this scene at least a hundred times."

Reflected in the reptilian's eyes was the face of the creature behind him. "A young, naïve guy walks up to the bar and is surrounded by the local toughs who are going to beat the crap out of him," Hiro explained. "Only, he's with a Jedi Master who ends up smearing the toughs all over the place."

"Too bad I'm not with a Jedi Master." His elbow shot up, catching his horned opponent under the chin. While his free hand grabbed a fistful of the lizard-man's shirt, the point of his elbow smashed into the dog-man's muzzle; Hiro's fist flew forward, punching a scaled face and rocking the lizard-man on his heels. Snatching up a half full mug, the assassin hurled its contents into the spotted man's face and then brought the mug up as the dog-man took a swing. Flesh struck glass with a loud thunk; his opponent screamed and tightly clutched the injured hand.

Swiftly, Hiro pushed the horned man away with his foot while swinging the mug back; it struck the lizard-man square in his face. The assassin spun back on the dog-man just as a bar stool crashed into the back of a furry head. Cintilla held onto the stool and grinned at him. "I told you this place is great for blowing off steam."

A whoosh warned him as Hiro dodged the lizard-man's punch. Light glinted off of metal, and the assassin noted his opponent was armed with a pair of brass knuckles that bristled with sharp spikes.

The bounty hunter let the stool clatter to the floor as she regarded the now snarling dog-man. Rows of teeth gleamed and Cintilla could imagine the damage they would do. "Want to dance Rover?"

"Here kitty, kitty," the canine-faced man growled. As he lunged, the bounty hunter dipped her shoulder and lifted, flipping her opponent over.

"Down boy," she said as he crashed to the hard wood floor.

Picking himself up, the spotted man watched enraged as a bit of fun degenerated into a shameful debacle. He would lose all credibility around here unless quick action was taken. "**Cantus Bellux,**" he chanted and the glow of magic surrounded his body. A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around.

"No fair using magic on a mundane," the other human said as a fist blazing with its own light buried itself in his gut. That blow knocked the air out of him while a second launched him into a wall.

Hiro continued to evade the lizard-man's punches until backed into a wooden column. Again the thug swung, a grin of confidence on his lips, only to strike the pole as the assassin ducked. Spikes sunk deep into the wood and stuck fast. The young man's fists pummeled his scaled adversary at will, finally finishing him off with a right hook.

Cintilla watched her companion deal with the lizard when a cloth wrapped about her throat. "You should never take your eye off an enemy," the dog-man gloated as the bandana twisted tighter. The woman's elbow slammed into his stomach until the grip on her throat loosened. Without hesitation, she turned and brought a knee up with brutal efficiency. Howling, her opponent fell to floor and writhed in agony.

"I said down," she remarked while tearing the bandana from her throat and tossing away. "And I meant down."

Panting for breath, Hiro was about to comment when he felt a presence behind him. The assassin's mouth went dry as he whirled about to stare at the pool playing, rhino-man's shirt. His gaze travelled up to find at an emotionless face glaring down. "Oh crap."

"I'm can't allow you to injure him," Professor Akashi said, the mage's hand still aglow with power.

"He's my bouncer," the bar tender called out. "Let 'em go. I don't need mages tearing up my bar."

The bouncer still glared down at Hiro as the professor responded, "We're just on our way out."

A shout of "Drop it!" followed by a yelp of pain drew all eyes to the back of the room. Cycilia stood over the man with the spotted hide, the heel of her shoe dug into the back of the beastman's hand. Whimpering, the mage's fist unclenched, releasing a wand. Quickly, she put her toe on top of it and slid the wand out of reach.

Hiro heard a deep rumble that was the rhino-man's voice. "You're him aren't you?" the bouncer asked. "You're that kid I've seen on the news reports."

"You must be mistaken," the assassin answered. "What would a fine, upstanding young man like that be doing brawling in a bar?"

--

**A/N: And so another chapter ends. As I mentioned above, I don't expect to have as much time for writing so I'll probably go back to monthly updates.**

**The chapter heading is from Shakespeare's "Richard III" were Richard wakes from being visited by the ghosts of his victims.**

**Pateo - open**


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: For someone who was on par with Asuna, can navigate with her eyes closed and has super hearing whenever Negi is mentioned, Ayaka has really been overlooked as potential partner material. While I'm not angling for an iincho-san pactio, I do think she'd be a good match.**

**Negima and its characters belong to Ken Akamatsu. Midnight Sleeper owns Sloan Maxwell, and I thank him for allowing me to use the magic detective's as well as a plot device from the latest 'Operation: Valentine' chapter. Lieutenant Hild (now promoted), Cycilia Sevensheep, Captain Clark and First Mate Kys'Shira of the Crescent Hawk, and the Estimated Prophet all come from Makuhari_Fan01's 'Ala Alba in the World of Magic.' Do yourself a favor at check out both authors.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', "**spells**", '_reading_', _memories_

**Prisoners**

_**Steel doors – guillotine gates – of the doorless house closed massively. We were locked in with loss. – **__Robert Hayden (the Prisoners)_

**--**

**Beef Bowl, Mahora Japan**

Koichi walked into the beef bowl restaurant, silently cursing to himself. One of his targets had conveniently wandered by, and the former Yakuza enforcer had squandered the opportunity. He should have just slit her throat then and there instead of going through the trouble of putting her into the pressure chamber. Now the place's security forces were alerted and it was doubtful he'd soon get another chance. Yet he couldn't wait too long; Homura-san didn't strike him as a patient sort of employer. Hopefully, he could salvage something out of the day's wreak.

As the waiter handed the thug a menu, Koichi looked the fellow over. "Do you still serve real Gyudon or is it that stuff with pork."

"Our beef is from Australia so we don't worry about the ban," the waiter answered. "How do you want it?"

"I'd like plenty of mushrooms but leave off the onions," he replied. "When it comes down to it, I really hate tamanegi."

Nodding in agreement the waiter responded, "I know what you mean, especially the Negi part."

"Wait about 15 minutes then go into the washroom," his server told him and then walked away.

A bell rang as two girls stepped into the restaurant. Koichi didn't know who the taller girl with her eyes squinted was, but he immediately recognized the blonde-haired student next to her. Quickly he turned back and lowered his head over the menu, hoping that he wouldn't be noticed. The pair sat down and was swiftly greeted by the waiter. "The usual?" he asked.

"Yes," the tall girl answered. "With a pot of tea please."

"I'll take whatever she's having," Ayaka responded.

They sat only a few booths away and weren't being particularly quiet. "You mentioned something about a test," the blonde stated.

"Tatsumiya-dono and I thought it would be a good idea to match you against someone close to your own abilities to gauge your progress," her companion replied.

"So you want me to fight Yuna?"

"We don't want you to come to blows," the squint-eyed girl answered. "It would be more like an involved game of hide-and-seek."

"Hide-and-seek?"

"You start at the World Tree Plaza as home base and spend the next 12 hours trying to avoid Yuna," the other girl explained. "Yuna will be armed with a gun that fires paint pellets. The test is over after the 12 hours elapses or you're hit with paint."

"Why does Yuna get to carry a gun? What about me?"

"Yuna's being trained differently from you," came the reply. "If I've judged you correctly, you shouldn't have any problem with evading her."

"What's to prevent me from holding up in a safe place?"

"This is a chance to pit what you've learned against a worthy adversary," her sensei said. "You could claim to have won a contest, but would have lost a chance to improve. Isn't that what this training is all about?"

"When do we start?"

"At six tonight."

Koichi picked at his food until the time had elapsed and then went to the washroom. "Do you know anything about those two girls who walked in after me?" he asked his contact.

"The taller one fought in last summer's martial arts tournament and knows some moves straight out of a manga," the waiter responded. "The blonde's a class leader or something and her family's loaded. A nice piece to look at but has a bossy attitude."

"Do you know of anyone with a grudge against either of them?"

"What are you thinking of?"

"I hear opportunity knocking," he replied. "And I don't want to miss this chance."

--

Mahora was known for its many school, award winning faculty and state of the art facilities. Less well advertised was the vigorous nightlife available to those who worked or studied on one of several campuses. Ayaka had attended any number of festivals and special events here, but the class rep hadn't been the sort to hang around the downtown on evenings. Everywhere she looked, small clusters of people headed off to one of the city's hot spots for that all important rest and relaxation earned after a hard week.

As she watched a couple walk past arm in arm, the high school sophomore felt a momentary twinge of envy. Most of the girls in her school could go out with a boy and never have to question his motives. Is he interested in me or my money? Sometimes Ayaka wondered if she'd ever be able to trust anyone. The one time she had tried ended miserably. Was there anybody who would love her for herself?

There was Negi-sensei of course, but he was only eleven and pretty much clueless about how he affected her. 'And the others too,' she added while recalling stories of the knockdown, drag out fight between Ku Fei and Miyazaki-san. Imagining her timid classmate brawling in the streets was difficult, but Honya-chan had dispatched one of the kidnappers back at the airport.

Thinking over the events of the past month, Ayaka realized that other classmates had acted seemingly out of character. Even Natsumi had shown remarkable courage, trying to shield her and Chizuru from the gunman that threatened them in San Francisco. Meanwhile, she had stood rooted to the spot like an animal paralyzed by a car careening towards it. Such bravery from her former roommate left the class rep feeling as if she was standing still while others raced ahead. This was one of her reasons for seeking Nagase-sensei's help in training.

Ayaka suddenly remembered that she was supposed to be in a training exercise. Guiltily, senses stretched outward, scanning like radar for any sign of her adversary. 'Good job Ayaka,' she quietly scolded. 'It would serve you right to be caught while daydreaming.'

Eyes narrowed as her gaze fell upon a familiar face in the crowd. "Him," hissed from between clenched teeth as the girl recognized the thug who last year had put her in a hospital and kidnapped Chizuru, and only a few weeks ago had tried to shoot them. A hand started for the cell phone in her bag, but brought only a muted curse when she realized both had been left behind as part of the test.

Ducking around a corner, Ayaka considered her course of action. Campus police should be notified, but doing that would mean losing sight of the hoodlum. Across the street, from the rooftop shadows, a metal barrel gleamed in the faint light. Fluorescent pink blooms decorated the wall as three plastic pellets hit the recently vacated space. Weaving between knots of revelers, the class rep kept her quarry in view while frantically thinking of how to signal Yuna.

Up ahead, the man walked at a leisurely pace, stopping the check several restaurants' posted menus or store displays. He wasn't in any hurry, almost as if the thug was deliberately taking his time. 'It's a trap!' the teen thought and then chided herself. 'How could he know I'm following?'

Rounding the corner, he disappeared down a side street. Ayaka hurried to the corner and peered into a dimly lit alley. For a moment she considered the implications of following a dangerous felon and then plunged after.

Shoes scuffing against asphalt echoed back at the girl, causing her to slip her feet out of them in response. A steady click, click of footsteps came from ahead. Using what Kaede had taught, the class rep squinted to guard against a sudden light and concentrated on the sounds about her: the ring as hand gripped a metal rail, soles scrapping concrete steps, a rattle of a twisting knob and the rasp as a swollen door was forced open.

The alley widened, forming a small court behind a string of shops. A muffled hack sounded to her right, and Ayaka froze. A flood light mounted on a pole switched on, bathing her with its harsh glare. A half dozen shapes were dimly visible.

"Lookey who showed up," a voice said in a mocking tone. "It's that little rich girl who thinks she's so much better than us."

"What'cha doing rich girl?" another jeering voice asked as a dozen feet shuffled closer. "Come to see how the other half lives?"

"Maybe she's hoping for some action," a third voice laughed.

"Is that what you want?" the first voice asked. Ayaka heard a slight whistle as he spoke. "You want some of what you've been turning that cute nose up at?"

As the speaker grabbed her forearm, the sharp retort of an air gun sounded. The hand released her to clutch at the stinging spot on his forehead now painted pink. Chunk, chunk, chunk filled the alley as three more shots found their marks.

"The light!" Ayaka screamed. "Hit the light!"

The first shot splattered against the lamp's protective cowling but the second struck and the bulb shattered in a dazzling shower of sparks. While the six were disoriented, Ayaka moved. Eight years of martial arts training took over as hands and feet struck vital points, paralyzing the confused men who then found themselves flung about the alley like rag dolls. Five were on the ground and she held the wrist of the one who had earlier grabbed her. "Where's the man I was following?" the teen asked as she twisted an arm higher.

"Go take a ..." he started to answer and then yowled in pain.

Ayaka could clearly see he was missing his front teeth. "Let's remember our manners," she said. "Try it again. Where did he go?"

"Over there." The punk indicated a shop door. "That beef bowl restaurant."

"Why did he hire you?"

"Hire? Hell he just offered us a shot at you bi … ow! My arm! My arm!"

Grinning from ear to ear, Yuna stepped out of the shadows. The dark-haired girl wore a baggy pair of olive drab pants held up by a pair of suspenders and topped off with a black tee-shirt. "Gee, leave it to iincho-san to complicate things." One of those lying prone, groaned and started to get up. Yuna's foot lashed out and knocked the supporting arm out from underneath. "Stay down," she said as he fell back to the ground, "Okay?"

"I'm just glad your aim is better than your fashion sense."

"Say what? I'll have you know that this is considered very chic."

"Yeah, if you're Sarah Conner," Ayaka muttered. Louder she said, "Help me tie these guys up. Then we need to contact Kuzunoha-san and get her security team over."

--

**Teacher's Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

An odd trio had gathered around the weight bench in the dormitory's exercise room. Kotaro added another metal disk to the barbell as Phillip looked at Negi. "How's Hasegawa-san?" the middle-aged teacher asked his young roommate.

"The doctor said her condition was stable and didn't expect any long term difficulties," the boy answered. "She should be released tomorrow."

"Any ideas on who could be responsible?"

"Too many," Negi replied. "There's the cabal of course, and taking what Anya said into account that means Fate is involved."

Both ignored Kotaro's low growl at the mention of the white-haired wizard's name. "Amagasaki-san or one of her cohorts in Kyoto could be striking at me through one of my partners," the youngster continued to list. "There are any number of people in the Magic World that Chisame-san's blogging helped topple from power including Asuna's father and a number of his allies with him."

"Kagurazaka-san is from this Magic World?" Phillip asked in surprise.

Negi nodded in response. "And her parents were the last King and Queen of a small country there."

"So she's a princess?"

"Asuna was born into the family and is the heir apparent," the boy explained. "But the kingdom doesn't exist anymore save as a name."

Raising a hand to his head, the American scratched in puzzlement. "So what is her position in this other world?"

"Asuna is a princess by birth, but has no lands," Negi answered. "She has a right to her parent's property, but several governments are involved as well as a host of other claimants. It may take years before she can inherit anything."

"You said inherit; I guess that means both of her parents are dead?"

"Her mother died when Asuna was quite a bit younger," Negi responded. Though familiar with magic that could slow down aging, the boy did know just how old his partner was. Certainly older than the 16 years she appeared. Asuna had been alive during the war his father and the Crimson Wing fought in. That had been more than twenty years ago. "We're not sure about her father."

"Poor kid," Phillip remarked as he lay back on the bench. "Do you mind spotting me Negi-san?"

Without thinking, he held the bar out for the older teacher who firmly grasped the bar. "Got it," Phillip said.

As the bar slowly lowered, the door opened and Ishikawa-sensei's niece, Himeiko, walked in. Normally the brown-haired girl wore a maid's uniform, but today she had on a pink, spandex leotard that fit snuggly everywhere. "Evening boys," she said cheerfully as long legs strode to a rack of hand weights.

With her back to them, she knelt over a bench and began a set of arm lifts. Hips were raised and the view reminded Negi of a pink and white Valentine's heart. Eyes were riveted on the motions going on underneath the leotard, as the woman continued her movements without concern. Heat rose in the young boy's face while a strange feeling came over him. A feeling the mage had become all too well acquainted with over the past few months; thank goodness for podiums or he would have embarrassed himself too many times during class. A glance over at Kotaro confirmed that his buddy, red-faced and staring as well, was having a similar difficulty.

"Negi-san," he vaguely heard. "How 'bout some help?"

Looking down, the boy found Phillip straining to keep the bar just inches above his chest. Grabbing the bar, he lifted the weights up and onto the rests with a clang. "Sorry Phillip-san."

"How much weight is on there?" the American asked.

Negi did a rapid calculation and then sighed. Switching to Japanese he said, "That's too much weight Kotaro."

"What do you mean too much?" the dark-haired boy asked as if personally insulted.

"We can do pushups with boulders on our backs," he pointed out. "Phillip-san's not able to."

"Sorry," the other boy glumly apologized. "I forgot he's a wimp."

--

**Singapore Airlines, Flight 1087**

"_Anna alive?" Eishun gazed at him as if the mage had lost his mind. Nagi couldn't blame his old comrade; he could scarce believe it himself. "How can you be sure this isn't a clerical error?"_

"_I can't," he answered. "But no one in Japan can tell me when Anna died or where she's buried."_

_For over ten years the man called the Thousand Master had blindly accepted that his wife had been murdered by enemies while he was out saving the world. 'Fool!' Nagi branded himself for believing what he hadn't seen for himself. Years wasted wallowing in self-pity, turning to drink to forget his woes and periods of lucid thought where the man was aghast at what he was becoming; a vicious cycle that became increasingly regular as the changing of the seasons._

"_I'm not saying Anna's alive now, but if she didn't die giving birth …" Nagi continued. "I have to follow this clue up. I have to know what happened to my wife."_

"_Clue! The Cocolova's have been petrified for seven years," his friend pointed out in a voice increasing its volume. "How can you possibly learn from them?"_

"_There is an address," he replied. "In London."_

"_An address that could be wholly fictitious," the other man countered, "or for Buckingham Palace."_

"_I won't know until I check it out."_

_A look of resignation crossed the swordsman's face. "You'll need back up then."_

"_The bloody hell I do!"_

_Eishun continued on as if Nagi hadn't said a word. "Someone who's familiar with your style and level-headed enough to keep you from vaporizing half the city when things get out of hand."_

"_Vaporize half the city? When things get out of hand?" Nagi shot back. "You make it sound like a foregone conclusion."_

So went their conversation this morning. The jumbo jet left Singapore hours ago and Nagi seemed to be the only passenger awake in the first class cabin. Soft snores issued from his neighbor, and the mage envied Eishun for being able to sleep on a plane. Even with such plush seats, he had rarely been able to sleep while moving.

Naturally he had refused his friend's offer to help, only it wasn't an offer; the swordsman was going along whether Nagi liked it or not, and there wasn't anything the mage could do about it. Not that he would. When facing the unknown, it was always a good to have a person you could trust along, even if you didn't need the help.

A flight attendant stopped and readjusted Eishun's blanket. "May I get you anything," the young woman asked.

Scotch served neat is what he wanted though Nagi asked only for water. After watching his son and the boy's partners save the Mundus Magicus last year, the former hero had foresworn liquor in an attempt to get his life back in order; it hadn't been easy. He could handle cravings that struck at odd hours, even when his body trembled from its need, but the hallucinations were frightening. Like a man dying of thirst in the middle of a wasteland, mirages of bottles and overflowing cups beset him. Beating the Life Maker had seemed a cake walk in comparison.

A bit of green-skinned lime floated in the plastic cup of tonic water handed him. Nagi sipped the drink as he contemplated the next move. The mage had to know the truth of what happened to his wife, and the address in London was the starting point. Before facing Negi again, he wanted to be able to answer the boy's questions. Neither of them could be satisfied with anything less.

--

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

Grandmistress Seras looked up from the slender pile of papers on her desk. Captain Hild, the new commander of the cadet training detachment, stood at attention before her. "This is most disturbing captain," the headmistress said. "How well do you trust this source?"

Captain Hild thought back to last year's Peace Festival. The woman and her partner were investigating the King of Enteofushia and his supporters and had uncovered the evidence used to link them to the gateport attacks. The two agents had even been petrified by the enemy at one point. "Implicitly," the officer replied. "And while the report originated in the Mundus Vetus, their Interpol enjoys the same sort of reputation as the Knights of Ceiphid do here."

"Is there anyway to verify with the original investigator?" the middle-aged mage asked. "This Detective …"

"Maxwell," the dark-haired valkyrie provided. "We'd have to dispatch someone to the Old World and my understanding is that Detective Maxwell frequently travels about."

A frown crossed Seras' face. Hild didn't envy the grandmistress' position. As the Valkyrie Brigade commander, the woman was used to taking direct and immediate action. But now the minefield of politics had to be carefully navigated. Competing responsibilities to the young men and women entrusted to her and avoiding interference with another school's business had to be balanced.

"Unofficial or not, this young man must be regarded as an emissary of Mahora," the headmistress said. "We must keep a constant watch on him, but be as unobtrusive as possible."

"Leave it to me grandmistress," Hild responded with the confident, can-do attitude common to all junior officers. "I know the right people for this assignment."

Closing the blue folder, Seras smiled at her. "Very well. I place this task in your capable hands captain." Thick black letters were stenciled across the folder that read '_CASE FILE: Cyrus MacDougall INVESTIGATOR: Sloan Maxwell_'.

--

**Crescent Hawk, Mundus Magicus**

High above the sparkling waters of the Amazon sea, the airship Crescent Hawk floated like a carp streamer. In the distance, dark shapes appeared that slowly resolved into a cityscape. Leaning against the observation platform's rail, Hiro absent-mindedly puffed at a cigarette as salt-tinged air mixed with nicotine-laced smoke. From behind, he heard the clang of feet stepping on the metal stairs. Taking the cigarette from his mouth, the young man blew out a white cloud and turned to face the sheep-eared reporter from Ariadne. "Miss Sevensheep," he said in greeting.

"Mister Oishi," Cycilia responded. "I came up to watch the approach. No matter how many times I've seen it, the view never grows old."

"Has Ariadne always been your home," he asked while crushing the cigarette against the rail.

"Yes it has," the woman answered. "My father worked many years for the Mage School."

"What did he do?"

"I guess you could call him a negotiator," she responded. "A large institution has interests about the world, not unlike your Mahora. Whenever a problem cropped up, Father would try to mediate a solution."

Privately, the assassin wondered if Mister Sevensheep's work was more like Professor Akashi's. It wouldn't surprise him if Emily's father fell into the same category.

"I guess I inherited my desire to travel from him," Cycilia remarked. "What about you Mister Oishi? Where's your home?"

"Tokyo I suppose," Hiro replied as he tried to remember the last time he had been in his apartment. It would have been last July, right before he set out for Mahora. "Can't say I've spent much time there either."

"Why are you going to Ariadne?" the reporter asked in an anxious voice. "Is there something I should be warned about?"

As the assassin thought about his response, Hiro watched an ear twitch nervously.

"This is a concerned mother asking," she explained. "If the Mage Knights get involved, that might affect my daughter."

"Despite what you may think, all of my involvement has been accidental," he answered. "For what it's worth, I don't know of any reason to be worried."

From the expression on her face, the reporter didn't seem convinced, but further discussion was interrupted by what sounded like thunder rumbling. A swift scan of their surroundings revealed a clear, blue sky without hint of a cloud.

"If you're wondering about the noise" Cycilia said as she pointed towards the sea, "then look down there."

A battleship gracefully rose and fell upon ocean waves as it steamed out to deeper water. Hiro rubbed at his eyes, but the relic from the previous century remained. "What is that?"

"That's the Estimated Prophet," she answered with a touch of civic pride.

"Estimated Profit?" the assassin replied. "What is a World War Two era destroyer doing here?"

Again the vessel's big guns boomed, raising nine spouts of water in response. "It would appear to be target practice," the woman chuckled.

As a ten-year old, Hiro had accompanied his grandfather on a "business" trip to Sidney. It so happened that their arrival coincided with a 50th anniversary celebration of the Pacific War's end. Out in the harbor were gathered ships representing the allied forces: American, British, Dutch, French, Australian and others. A royal navy destroyer had fired its guns in salute and the boy had to clap hands over ears to block out its deafening roar. For a little while, it seemed that youngster had returned as the pair watched the spectacle below in fascination.

An even greater surprise awaited as a short while later, the uppermost towers of Ariadne edged above the horizon. Instead of the massive skyscrapers of Megalo-Mesembria, or the graceful spires of Phoenicis, the cityscape before him seemed an architectural collage from both worlds. Russian onion domes clashed with Spanish tiled roofs while London tenements abutted a French chateau. Others cities he'd seen so far on this trip were homogenous, as if each were cut from the same piece of fabric. They were new cities, like the Tokyo rebuilt after the war.

"How old is Ariadne?" he asked the reporter.

"I'm not really sure," Cycilia replied. "Three to four thousand years I guess."

Three to four thousand years. Not many cities in the Old World could make that claim. Jerusalem, Damascus, Athens and a handful of others maybe, but their contemporaries either lay in ruins or buried under the accumulated debris of centuries. A hill with every square meter of it covered in structures dominated the skyline. Jutting out from for a kilometer or so was a single span that ended in mid-air. In response to Hiro's question, the sheep-eared woman said it was called the Bridge to Everywhere.

"Most bridges will only take you between two points," she explained. "But at the point this bridge ends, one could journey to everywhere else in the world."

"The name kind of stuck," Cycilia continued as a whale started to dock to it. "Now it serves as the central station for public transportation."

"And where's this Magic School at?"

"It's not in one group of buildings Mister Oishi, but spread throughout the city."

Feet clanged against metal steps as the ship's first mate walked onto the deck. A long, sinuous tail curled into an s-shape as the dragon-woman regarded them. Hiro considered her attractive once the assassin got past the tail and green-hair. "Is there a problem Miss Kys'shira?"

"Captain Clark sent me to get everyone below before we reach the city limits," the woman answered. "Turbulence always gets worse the closer we get to Ariadne."

--

Mage knight cadet and class president, Emily Sevensheep waited impatiently as the transport ship carrying her mother slowly descended towards the landing platform. A vagrant wind blew a few loose strands of the girl's blonde hair across her forehead, but hardly stirred the heavy cloak about her shoulders. She spared a glance at the detail of cadets under her charge. They milled outside the arrival gate in less than military order, speaking softly to one another. Beatrix stood closest to her, showing the same nervous anticipation that Emily felt. A little further away was the beagle-eared Collet, who was being peppered with questions by fellow classmate Marie du Noir. Two cat-girls, Jei and Sachi, listened in on the discussion.

'Marie's probably asking about Oishi-san again,' she silently grumbled. 'I honestly don't understand what the attraction is.'

"Saving so many people made him seem heroic," Beatrix said, startling the girl who didn't realize she'd spoken aloud. "And several of our classmates have noted how cute he is."

"Cute," Emily repeated in surprise. "You don't think he's cute do you?"

A thoughtful expression crossed the other cadet's face. Cautiously she answered, "Well … he's no Nagi Springfield."

"Of course he's not Nagi Springfield," Nagi Springfield fan club member number 78 snorted. "No one could be."

"Although that boy from last year's Nagi Cup comes close," Emily continued as her face took on a dreamy look. "Talk about cute."

Dock workers sprang to action as the craft landed, securing mooring cables to the koi-shaped airship. "What were the captain's orders?" Beatrix asked.

"We're supposed to greet Professor Akashi and his student assistant," Emily, still distracted by images of the youthful prize fighter, answered. "And then we escort them to the grandmistress for a formal welcome."

"Isn't this normally done by a ceremonial team?"

"Yes, but this isn't an official visit," the sheep-eared girl answered. "Beside, the captain said it would be good experience."

Emily had been surprised to be called into Captain Hild's office that morning. "I have a special assignment for you Cadet Sevensheep," her superior had said, "a mission that requires a certain delicacy."

"Cadets," the girl called out as the hatch opened, "Fall In!"

Feet shuffled across the stone surface as the remaining students rushed into a single file and came to attention. Their leader stood in front, back as stiff as a wooden board, and watched as Oishi-san face peered out of the opening. The university student stepped onto the exit ramp and waited. Cycilia Sevensheep appeared and grasped Oishi's offered hand before walking down.

"Oh, a gentleman," Marie whispered, provoking a "hrmpf" from Emily.

Halting at the base of the ramp, Cycilia said something to the gallant as Oishi bent his head to hear. All six cadets were surprised when the news reporter placed on hand on his neck as he literally swept her into his arms. Behind the couple, an older man wearing glasses exited the vessel.

"Wow," Collet exclaimed. "I guess they hit it off pretty well in Phoenicis."

A fur-covered elbow quickly found its way into the class dunce's side, prompting her to silence.

"Ojou-sama," Beatrix whispered. "Are you alright ojou-sama?"

Shock dissipated to be replaced by flickers of rage. 'What does that … that sycophant think he's doing?' Emily angrily thought. 'While I'll … I'll … I'll turn him into a newt!'

Oishi-san carried her mother through the gate and then waited as an attendant pushed a wheelchair over. Gently he sat the woman on its seat, and once the other man had joined them, proceeded to wheel over to the line of cadets.

Words to a transformation spell caught in Emily's throat bringing on a spate of coughing. "Isn't that sweet," Sachi commented while Beatrix pounded their leader's back. By the time the trio had reached them, she had recovered enough to call the group to attention.

"Professor Akashi, on behalf of Grandmistress Seras and the Magic School of Ariadne," she called in clear voice, "I welcome you and your assistant and extend to you both our hospitality."

"Let me respond for both of us by saying thank you," the professor said. "We will gratefully accept your offer."

"If you'll follow me …"

"Excuse me," Cycilia interrupted. "But might I speak with Cadet Sevensheep a moment?"

After a hesitant pause, Emily asked the two men to follow Cadet Monroe and the others to the school's shuttle. The woman looked up at her. "I know you're on duty dear, but is it proper protocol to ignore your mother?"

A heartbeat later, her arms were wrapped around Cycilia, nearly crushing the woman with her embrace. Suddenly, Emily stepped back, a concerned expression on her face. "What happened Mom?"

"I twisted my ankle coming down from the ship's observation deck."

Sadly, the girl shook her head and began to push the wheelchair over to the nearest lift. "You need to be more careful Mom," she scolded.

"I'll try darling," the reporter replied with a voice that was exaggeratedly contrite. "Why did the school send a detail of cadets to meet a vacationing professor?"

"It's not everyday somebody from Mahora stops by," Emily answered. "I'm sure the headmistress wants to hear all of the news."

"The Seras I remember led the Valkyrie Brigade as well as being the president of the Nagi Springfield Fan Club's Ariadne Chapter," Cycilia remarked. "She never seemed the type to engage in idle banter."

"Nor the type to explain her actions to a lowly cadet."

"Touché dear," her mother responded. "Will I be able to see you soon? Maybe you and a few friends could come over for dinner."

"I can't promise," Emily replied as she stopped in front of the elevator. "Beatrix and I are pretty busy with training."

"You better get back to your mission then." Cycilia told her as the doors slid open. "I can take it from here."

Again she gave her mother a quick hug and was soon striding back to the others. It seemed Emily was always busy, but then her ambition was to be the best at whatever she did. School, sports, magic, it didn't matter as all were part and parcel of the same goal. Yet she did have to make time for her mother; the woman was all the family left to her.

Cycilia's parents had died before Emily was born. They were only pictures that she'd sometimes see while flipping through the pages of a photo album. As for her father … well she hadn't known him either. He was a shadowy figure that was acknowledged but never discussed. Her mother would get this far away look and smile warmly, recalling some private moment between them, however she'd change the subject whenever Emily would ask about him. All mother would say was that she must have inherited her talent from him.

'He's probably some jerk who got a girl pregnant and ran off,' the girl savagely thought. "I'm better off without him."

"It's just a distraction I don't need," she murmured. Yet questions still snapped at her heels like hungry wolves.

--

**A/N: Sorry for the delay but time to write is becoming a scarce commodity. I'm not sure when I'll get the next chapter done, I still have other stories to update too (I haven't forgot you Hydriatus. Honest.)**

**Chapter title and heading come from Robert Hayden's poem 'the Prisoners.'**

**Sarah Connor is a character from the "Terminator" movies, books, and other media.**


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: Welcome to chapter 23. Sometime ago, Makuhari-Fan01 sent me a story of how Nagi Springfield and Anna Adenauer met. I liked it so well, that I immediately wanted to incorporate it into this story. The snippet here doesn't do justice to what he wrote; hopefully, he'll post some of these short fics in the near future.**

**Negima is owned by Ken Akamatsu, to whom we all owe a greater debt. If Mahou Sensei Negima wasn't a terrific story, none of us would be writing fanfiction about it.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, "singing", _memories_

**Devil's Bargain**

_**On Bald Mountain not so lately, you bequeathed to me your soul. Wrote your name down accurately on a bull's hide for a scroll**__ – Adam Mickiewicz_

--

Student Dormitory, Mahora Japan

Music poured through the headphones, flowed down into fingers that in turn strummed guitar strings in imitation of the sounds from the compact disc. With a focus sharper than the girl would ever use in class, Madoka concentrated on the rapidly changing chords and mimicked them on her instrument. As the last notes died away, the guitarist slipped the headphones off and looked up at her roommate. "How was that?"

"Sounds great," Misa replied. "But I didn't recognize half of those songs. Where did you get all these CD's from?"

"Markham-sensei gave me some ideas," the dark-haired musician answered, "and I checked them out of the library."

"So what song was that?" Misa asked as she flipped through the stack of cases.

"Something called 'Barracuda'," her friend answered while strumming the intro again. "It's got this terrific riff."

"Well don't forget to practice our songs," she reminded Madoka. "We want to knock the audience out at this year's festival."

"Are we signed up?"

"Yes and I hope the class isn't going for something as involved as last year's haunted house."

"But that made a lot of money didn't it?"

"Sure, but it also cut into our practice time," Misa pointed out. "Ako seems to gotten over her performance jitters, however we still need to work on Sakurako's new stuff."

A rap on the door interrupted Misa before she could continue. Makie stood in the corridor, her attitude even bubblier than normal. "Madoka-san," the little gymnast said. "Ishikawa-sensei wanted to remind you about your appointment."

"Oh right," the student replied, slapping hand to forehead. "I nearly forgot."

"Appointment?" Misa asked in a bewildered voice. "Who is Ishikawa-sensei?"

"She's the middle school's new chemistry teacher," Makie answered.

"She wanted to talk to me about," Madoka's voice dropped to a conspiratorial level as she continued, "stuff we aren't supposed to mention."

A short while later, the maid ushered two, nervous students into the teacher's presence. "You're late Kugimiya-san," a heavy-set woman seated behind a low table said.

"I'm sorry sensei," Madoka responded. "This is my friend Misa."

The woman frowned slightly as she looked Misa over. "And why is your friend here?"

"I'm supporting Madoka," the girl jumped in. "Are you really a magic teacher like Professor Springfield?"

"I am a magic teacher, but I'm nothing like Springfield-san."

"Himeiko," sensei called out and the maid promptly responded with a "Yes mistress?"

Ishikawa held out a folded piece of paper and said "I should be done in two hours."

Without further word, Himeiko snatched the paper, curtsied and was out the door. The teacher turned a severe gaze upon Misa, who immediately felt goose bumps rise in response. "What Kugimiya-san and I have to do is best done without bystanders," she was told. "I suggest you come back after a couple of hours as well."

Any number of objections sprang to mind, but all were flash frozen by that intense gaze. Numbly, the cheer squad captain turned and walked out of the room. Only after the door clicked behind her did Misa start thinking again. "What the … what just happened?"

Thinking to corner the new teacher's maid and ask some questions, she hurried to the stairwell. Reaching for the knob, a tingling sensation like static electricity ran up her arm as tiny hairs lifted straight up. Cautiously opening the door, Misa saw Himeiko on the landing. The maid's back was turned toward her and ripples like waves of heat washed over its surface. Open-mouthed, the student watched the other woman's form twist and expand until it resembled one of her classmates. Gone were the black dress and white apron. They had been replaced by a short skirt and tube top that accentuated every curve of Naba-san's figure. High heels clicked against the steps as Misa closed the fire door as softly as she could.

--

As the front door closed, Madoka glared accusingly at the teacher. "What did you do to Misa?"

"I merely reinforced my suggestion she leave us alone," Evangeline answered. "We don't need interruptions."

"Are we going to practice that spell again?" the teen resignedly asked as she took a seat at the table.

Not yet," the mage said. "I want to investigate what happened to make Sasaki-san's spell flare up last time."

A guarded expression crossed Madoka's face. "You don't think I had anything to do with that?"

"Why not?" she asked in return. "It's not so strange an idea when compared to what some of your classmates can do."

As she spoke, Evangeline gathered items from about the room and brought them to the table. "Take your friend Shiina-san," she continued while placing a copper brazier, a wood box, a roll of black cloth and matches down. "Doesn't that incredible luck of hers strike you as magical?"

"But I don't know how to cast spells," Madoka protested.

"In theory, anyone can learn to use magic, Sasaki-san being a case in point," Evangeline explained as she spread the fabric across the table top. "A few are born with a talent that can manifest without any training."

Inside the box were clumps of a white, resinous substance. The undead mage broke off a piece, placed it into the brazier, struck a match and set it alight. Closely following her movements, Madoka asked "What are you doing?"

"A simple test," she answered. "I want you to concentrate on the smoke."

Thin tendrils, redolent of fresh turned earth and green, growing things, floated upwards. Various strands merged and writhed about each other. Evangeline watched as the student's attention focused on the smoke. Under the mage's manipulations, vague wings formed and she was nearly caught off guard by the sudden surge in energy feeding the spell. As the wings came to resemble a dragonfly's, the energy level dropped; when a butterfly's it increased.

'I wonder what's so special about a butterfly,' Evangeline thought as continued transformations caused the mana to fluctuate in response. "I've seen enough," the mage announced as she allowed the enchantment to fade.

Magicus Augeo, the augmenting of magic energy, was rare though not unheard of. Unlike Magic Cancelling, which could cause spells to react erratically, this was a straight forward increase in energy sustaining a spell. Such a talent, with proper training, could make the girl a valuable partner. Or victim, she added while imaging how a mage of the Cabal could abuse this gift and its wielder. 'Did you know about her old man?' Evangeline could picture the headmaster with hammer and chisel in hand. 'And how many others have such an undiscovered talent?'

"Are you okay Ishikawa-san," Madoka, concerned by the woman's silence, asked.

"I'm fine," she quickly answered. "We're done with this, so help me clear the table and we'll start again with the wand."

--

Misa had followed as the transformed maid went about the campus. She had watched the disguised woman seduce three men within 90 minutes. Himeiko seemed to adapt easily to the situation whether it was a row of shrubbery, the back seat of a car, or a stall in the men's room. After following her quarry back to the teacher's dormitory, Misa confronted the shape shifter in the stairwell. "Alright you!" she angrily shouted. "What are you and why are you pretending to be one of my classmates?"

A faint trace of a smile was visible as Himeiko looked back at the teen. "And why should I tell you anything?"

"I'll report you to the school authorities," the cheerleader threatened. Suddenly, the maid's hand reached out and seized Misa's throat.

"Curiosity killed the cat my young friend." A powerful hand squeezed her neck, causing the student to gasp for breath. Himeiko's smile grew broader with every choking sound Misa made. The brown-haired woman leaned close and whispered into her ear, "But I'll let you in on my secret; I'm a demon. What you humans often call a succubus."

Easing the pressure on her windpipe enough for Misa to swallow a lungful of air, the demon continued to explain. "Energy produced during sex sustains me, and I was out having a …" Himeiko paused, running a tongue over her lips before finishing, "… a meal."

"Though it seems most of the males around here want to forego the appetizers and get straight to the main course," the woman remarked with a chuckle. "As for why I chose your friend's form, she seems to be … popular."

Misa had been scared in California when the class had been attacked by the witiko, however feeling the other's hand at her throat terrified the teen even more. "What … what are going to do with me?"

Himeiko's hand fell away as air rushed unimpeded into the cheerleader's lungs, though Misa's heart still thumped wildly. "I'm here because the headmaster has ordered it. I'll let you think of what he might do if you blab to anyone else."

Drawing upon her small supply of courage, Misa told the demon, "You can't go around having sex while looking like other people. You're going to cause them trouble."

Himeiko seemed ready to give a scathing reply when a calculating expression appeared in its place. "Maybe I wouldn't need to," the demon responded while moving uncomfortably closer. "Perhaps if you and some of your friends were willing to sacrifice a little energy for these other's sake."

A different feeling of dread filled her at the implications of those words. "You're not … not talking about …" she stammered as cheeks flushed crimson.

"I can become anyone," Himeiko said as her form shifted before the shocked girl's eyes. Misa's current boyfriend stood so close she could feel his breath against her face. "Anytime." Outlines blurred as the demon switched in appearance now resembling Professor Springfield. "I can fulfill your every fantasy." Misa trembled as the creature changed shapes again and the girl found herself gazing upon into a heart-shaped face nearly as familiar as her own. "No matter what it is."

--

A green-haired girl dressed in a conservative blouse and skirt walked purposefully down the street. Heads turned, admiring long, stocking clad legs. Gazes lingered on the swirling fabric as hips gently rocked back and forth. Glancing down at a hastily scribbled list, Chachamaru was oblivious to the attention.

After checking on her roommate, the gynoid had gone out in search of a job. Armed with a list compiled from various billboards and other postings, she had started downtown. As an ongoing project for the Technology Department, the robot's maintenance needs were taken care of; however, since Evangeline was incapacitated, Chachamaru had needed to make her own decisions on what to wear and how to spend her time.

Rooming with the person behind Chiu had provided a crash course in fashion and personal appearance. It was a fascinating world that the web idol had thrown open to her, but an expensive one. And the robot didn't want someone else to continue paying her way. It was different as Evangeline's servant. Chachamaru accepted whatever the vampire gave her as part of following mistress' orders. However, Chisame wasn't her master and their relationship shouldn't be bound by those types of obligations.

Up ahead, a man in white overalls was carefully painting characters on to a plate glass window. Golden figures carefully edged in black proclaimed the grand opening of the Duke Street Café. A piece of paper reading "Experienced Dancers/Servers Wanted" was taped to a corner. Confirming the address on her list, the robot walked in.

A couple, deep in conversation, stood just inside the door. The man had dark hair, with a lock that hung in front of his forehead. His companion was short and had a swarthy complexion. He glanced at Chachamaru and then ran his eyes slowly from her face down, examining the newcomer from top to bottom. "Turn around," he said.

Dutifully, the robot turned her back to him. "Very nice," he observed. "Are you here to apply?"

"Yes."

"Have you danced before?"

"I am skilled in 179 different dance forms," she answered. "I am particularly adept at several traditional and folk styles."

A broad grin greeted her pronouncement. "That's not exactly what I meant," the man remarked as he turned to the other girl. "Why don't you show her Namie?"

A large bar dominated the café's front while a raised platform resembling a model's catwalk was to the back. A metal pole, about 4 centimeters in diameter, had been set into the stage. Namie stepped onto the platform while the man ducked into a glass booth and started flipping switches. Speakers pumped out a strident beat as the girl on stage began to gyrate. Her sinuous motions accompanied the hard driving bass and guitars. As the singer growled "Back in black I hit the sack, I've been too long I'm glad to be back …" the dancer pressed back against the pole and let hands languorously glide over her hips and chest.

"Well I'm back," the singer wailed. "Yes I'm back."

Firmly grasping the pole, Namie lifted herself upwards and scissored her legs around it. Suspended above the stage, she nearly writhed in time to the music.

"I'm in a bang with a gang. They've got to catch me if they want me to hang."

So intent was the gynoid watching, Chachamaru flinched when a voice at her shoulder asked, "Can you do that?"

Namie shifted again, grasped the pole and slid down while spinning about. As the robotic student shifted her attention back to the man, processors finished recording and cataloging the new dance moves. Her face was expressionless as she answered, "I don't anticipate any problems."

--

London, United Kingdom

Their flight touched down at Heathrow and after a torturous two hours in line, the cute girl behind the immigration counter stamped his passport and handed it back with a smile. "Welcome to London Mister Springfield."

Impatient as he felt, Nagi sank into the taxi's back seat and gazed out the window at the passing scenery. With the subway so convenient, it had been a number of years since the mage last travelled on city streets. The presence of so many new skyscrapers was a surprise, as was the variety among them. One resembled a French gherkin standing on end, or maybe it was more like a … no definitely a gherkin.

"Here's your stop Gov'ner," the cabby announcing as he pulled to a stop in front of a train station.

Liverpool Street Station was one of the country's busiest. Its cavernous lobby was packed with commuters and tourists who jostled one another in their rush. With acute disappointment etched on his features, Nagi watched the crowd's comings and goings from a bench. "Go ahead and say it," he told his companion. "I know you're dying to."

"Very well," Eishun said as his head nodded in agreement, "sushi or Mc Springrolls?"

Nagi turned and stared at the dark-haired swordsman, unsure if his old friend was poking fun or had taken leave of his senses.

"It's been awhile since breakfast," Eishun observed as he pointed out two nearby restaurants. "Should I give the sushi bar a try or McDonald's?"

As his one-time comrade in arms disappeared into the eatery, a grizzled-haired woman approached. A purple cap decorated with white and yellow flowers was pulled over her ears. It clashed terribly with the white and black checkered coat and faded red slacks she wore. Trailing behind her was folding cart, like the ones popular with shoppers. Had this been the United States, Nagi presumed she would have been referred to as a bag lady.

Sitting in the recently vacated spot next to him, the woman heaved a sigh of relief. Brown splotches and purplish veins shown against seemingly paper-thin skin. Her lips parted, revealing a mouthful of crooked, yellow teeth, and softly she began to sing, "For the benefit of Mister Kite, there will be a show tonight on trampoline."

The mage turned slightly away as the woman continued, "The celebrated Mister K performs his feat on Saturday at Bishopsgate …"

"Do you ever miss how it used to be?" she unexpectedly asked.

"Pardon?"

"Old Maud's been around for awhile," the woman said. "I can remember how this place used to look afore all those bankers, with more money than sense, decided to build their ivory towers."

"Was a time you could see the whole of London from the top of Saint Paul's," she recalled. "Ah, but those days are long gone."

Lucidity seemed to fade from her face as the woman resumed her singing, "And of course Henry the Horse dances the waltz … da de da de da … da da de da."

"What brings a handsome, young lad like you down here," the strange woman asked. "Going to meet your lady love?"

"No," the mage replied ruefully. "I won't be meeting my … lady love anytime soon."

"I thought there was a sadness about you," she lamented. "So deep you feel that you're going to drown in it. Am I right?"

Nagi remained quiet as memories of his dear wife came to mind.

_Ala Rubra had gone to Ariadne in order to enlist the famed Mage Knights for the upcoming battle against Total World. While on a public transport, Rakan amused himself by pinching several pairs of knickers. The next thing the mage knew, the muscle-bound pervert was rubbing a newly acquired handprint while a girl about Nagi's age glowered at the former gladiator._

"_Please don't mind my friend," Nagi had told her in an attempt to smooth things over. Personally, he was all too happy that Jack was the one being slapped silly. Smiling like a movie star, the boy started to congratulate himself when a slap impacted against the side of his face. His friends, and several other passengers, dissolved into laughter at his shocked expression._

"_Oh my Nagi," Al gasped as tears of mirth rolled down the robed man's face. "It looks like you met a girl immune to your natural charm."_

That was his introduction to Anna Adenauer, daughter of one of Ariadne's most respected families. From that inauspicious start, a relationship of respect, admiration and, eventually, love grew. How he missed her.

"Memories can be so painful to bear," the old woman said in sympathy. "If only we could cast them aside and be free to continue with our lives. Would you like to do that young man?"

He stared at her with unfeigned interest. "What was that?"

"Old Maud can help you."

--

Wheels squeaked as the fold up cart trundled over the train bed. Nagi constantly craned his head over a shoulder as if expecting a locomotive to rush upon them at any moment. The old woman was absently singing as they walked, "Living is easy with eyes closed, misunderstanding's all you see …"

"Mind that third rail lad," his guide reminded him. "It packs enough voltage to fry you crispy like bacon, mage or not."

"Where exactly are we heading?"

"Doctor Bentham's clinic," Maud answered. "The doctor is a specialist in memories."

A hum of electric motors rushed towards them as a sudden change in pressure indicated the next train had left its perch. The tunnel was wide enough to easily avoid being hit, but the old woman continued nonchalantly on her way. Nagi was about to grab her and jump when Maud swung her cart onto a service platform and ducked into a nearly hidden corridor.

Standing in the side tunnel, the mage felt his robe whip around as the subway rushed past. She rummaged around in the cart for moment and then produces an electric torch. A beam of light flashed over walls not of poured concrete, but cut and mortared stone. "I take it the rail company didn't build this tunnel?"

"No, this tunnel was built long before the tubes," Maud replied. "None but magic folk can find it, even if they run a hand over top."

Nagi estimated that the tunnel extended only a block from the main track, ending beneath the lobby. From a coat pocket, Maud extracted an old fashioned key and fit it into the iron bound door ahead of them. Hinges creaked as the door swung towards them. A voice raged "They called me mad, and I called them mad! And damn them, they outvoted me!"

Inside was a dark but well appointed office. A man dressed in a doctor's white coat sat at a desk made of burled walnut. He was pale, thin and his dishpan blonde hair had a prominent widow's peak. In his hands was a bell jar with a glowing disk suspended in its center. Quickly he turned towards the noise, "What is this Maud?"

"Sorry to disturb you Doctor Bentham," she answered with a servile tone. "This man here has need of your services."

Doctor Bentham stood and Nagi could see the man was a good 16 centimeters shorter than himself. "Good morning sir, I am Doctor Thomas Bentham. And who might you be?"

"My name is Nagi Springfield."

"Oh," the doctor exclaimed in surprise. "Are you that boy who set the prize fighting world on its ear last year? I'm really quite a fan though I don't get to see many matches."

"No, I'm a different Nagi Springfield," the Thousand Master replied, stifling an amused smile. "I'm nowhere near as famous as that."

--

Steps echoed off of walls over seven centuries old as Doctor Bentham led Nagi down the corridor, a ball of white light following puppy-like behind. "Please forgive me but I've never had a request quite like this before," the doctor apologized. "Those who seek me out are trying to forget some traumatic incident."

"I understand doctor," the mage replied. "But I'm sure the other Nagi will appreciate knowing what happened to his mother. So these walls are part of the original Bethlem Royal Hospital?"

"Actually, they're part of an earlier priory," the white coated man answered. "I believe it was turned into a hospital during Henry the Eighth's reign."

"How does this process of forgetting work?"

"Think of brain cells as receptacles for thoughts," Bentham said. "My spell removes the contents and places them into another receptacle."

"And no trace is left?"

"None what so ever," the doctor insisted.

Stopping before a hallway that extended beyond the enchanted light, Nagi was handed a key like Maud had carried. Down the corridor, muffled voices could be heard, vague and disquieting, like a dream half recalled in the morning.

"I'm sorry not to be of more help," the doctor told him. "There are simply too many memories stored here to know in an instant where one is. Each door represents a memory. Keep passing them until you hear a familiar voice."

With that, Nagi disappeared down the corridor, with the light bobbing along behind him. Voices grew distinct as the Thousand Master approached each door.

"Jerry was filling the air full of flack and God I was so scared. I just dropped the load thinking how we were never getting back. 'Climb, climb, damn you climb,' the captain shouted as he pulled the plane higher and higher. I saw the black plumes rise as each bomb struck its target. Merciful God, I swear I didn't know it was an orphanage."

Words of other's suffering continued to fill his ears.

"Then the queen screamed 'Off with her head!' and the executioner lifted that fearsome axe of his," a woman's voice sobbed. "I shut my eyes but my ears still heard the blade sink into the block and the thump of the head rolling into a basket. I felt hot drops splatter against my cheek; the blood had stained my clothing and the queen forbade me to change out of them for the rest of the day. Then the next traitor was summoned to the block."

Further and further Nagi ventured into this nightmarish realm.

"Then he looked at me and said 'I'll be back.' The next thing I know a car comes crashing through the front of the station. There was gunfire, people falling everywhere I looked."

"But I don't want to go among mad people!" a young girl screamed.

"For his gold I had no desire," another voice, dispassionate and world-weary, proclaimed. "I think it was his eye. Yes, it was this."

"I had vacantly crumpled it into my pocket … but by God, Eliot, it was a photograph from life!"

"Murderer!" a familiar voice cried, jerking the mage to a halt. "You've killed her!"

Recognizing Anna's shouting, Nagi quickly thrust the iron key into the lock and twisted with a violence born of haste. Beyond the door lay the little meadow where Gwyn's cottage stood. The house made of paper and wood blazed brightly, shedding light upon his wife. Anna knelt in the dirt and he could see trickles of blood flowing down the woman's face while her hands cradled her mother's still form. Her eyes burned with a fire as fierce as the one consuming the cottage while she stared at a black robed figure hovering in the air above.

"A most impressive display Springfield-san," the robed man observed. His voice fairly dripped with scorn, but Nagi detected a touch of admiration too. "I believe you three managed to dispel all of my minions."

"You murdered my mother!" Anna angrily yelled.

"And you shall swiftly join her," the mage promised as he raised his arm. A sleeve fell back, revealing a hand tipped with long, steel-hard nails.

"I don't think so," a third voice called from the darkness, causing three heads to crane about in shock. From out of the shadows stepped Nagi Springfield, carrying his famous staff. "Not by a third-rate conjuror such as you."

"No! This can't be!" the robed man sputtered. "You're in Istanbul!"

With a shout of rage, he lunged towards the Thousand Master, by the clawed hand raked through empty space as his prey vanished. Spinning about, he saw Nagi's insufferable grin just before the staff struck him in the face with a crack! As the mage hurtled backward, Anna's chanted her spell.

"**North wind, bringer of blizzards, blow, a thousand knives to cut down my enemy!**"

Three blasts of wind, each bearing razor-sharp shards of ice, whirled about the enemy mage. Skin tore open with each pass, leaving a bloody trail in their wake. Again and again the winds slashed at him until the man resembled a butchered flank of beef. With a sob, Anna released her spell and their enemy dropped to the ground like a rock. Nagi watched as his doppelganger's shape blurred, to be replaced by his sister-in-law. Gwyneth ran to Anna and placed an arm to support the now swooning woman. Gently she was eased to the ground.

His wife groaned and placed blood-stained hands against her bulging belly. "Too much," she panted. "That last spell was too much."

"You'll be fine Anna," Gwyneth tried to reassure her. "I'll go get help."

"I'm losing him!" she cried while clutching her friend's arm. "I'm losing my baby!"

"Then let me summon help."

"There's no time. You've got to help me … my baby … our baby."

"Anna, there isn't," the other woman started to say but was cut off.

"There is," she wheezed, "that ritual."

A look of utter astonishment flooded Gwyneth's face. "You can't seriously expect …"

"Please Gwyn. You promised him to see our little boy born."

"Oh God! Anna, don't …"

"Please."

Nagi's sister-in-law hung her head in submission. "I will honor my promise."

"**Io Cybele,**" Anna's weakened voice croaked. "**Io Magna Mater.**" Gwyneth's voice joined in the incantation. "**Impleat lapibus illis caloribem Magna Matris. Mulieribus pars vim tua det. Io, io Cybele.**"

"**Great Mother of all,**" Anna chanted. "**The seed stirs within me, sending new roots into fertile soil.**"

"**This is my sister,**" Gwyneth simultaneously intoned. "**My strength is her strength.**"

"**By your power let it continue to grow and flourish.**"

"**My sister's burdens are my burdens.**"

"**And come to fruition in its proper time.**"

"**So do I surrender all for her sake**."

"**Io, io Cybele,**" both women chanted in unison. "**Let it be so.**"

Nagi stood thunderstruck, as the two women were surrounded by a golden glow. But when it faded, he stared again at the scene with Anna holding her mother's head. Like a video stuck on loopback, the memory repeated over and over. After watching it for a third time, the mage turned around to find the portal had disappeared.

Retracing his steps, Nagi felt for the door but encountered only air. Behind him he heard the unknown sorcerer gloating over Anna. With eyes shut tight, he concentrated on magic about him. The Thousand Master had a well deserved reputation for bringing overwhelming force against any obstacle; in the midst of battle, smashing your enemies' as swiftly as possible was often the easiest course. However, it didn't always serve the purpose. That the mage understood that fact is what distinguished him from Jack Rakan.

Magical energy, appearing as a glowing light, encircled him. Deeper his mage sight delved into its substance until it began to look like individual points of brightness. These particles, or corpuscles as his tutors called them, constantly undulated as the spell's force rippled through them as a wave moves through water. Patterns emerged under the wizard's probing, revealing more and more elements of the enchantment.

Subtly, Nagi altered the spell's flow, creating an egress. While it would have been a simple matter to shatter the construct, this way left the memory intact. Pushing through the gap, he found himself in a large chamber. A vaulted ceiling loomed over a hundred rows of wooden shelves, each packed with more of the bell jars.

"Welcome back," Eishun said. The Shinmei-ryu's nodachi was drawn as Doctor Bentham and the old woman, hands stuffed into pockets, knelt before the swordsman. "These two seemed most reluctant to discuss where you had gone."

"You see, he wasn't in any danger," the doctor whined. "I would have brought him back."

Nagi glared at the small man who cringed from the intense scrutiny. "I'm sure you would have, for a price," he remarked. "What do you do with all these jars?"

"Well … I study them," Bentham answered. "They're all part of my research."

Before the Thousand Master's eyes, the doctor in the lab coat transformed into a ghoul wallowing in the accumulated misery. "You enjoy watching their suffering don't you?" he accused.

"No! Doctor Bentham's a good man," Maud shouted. "He helps those crippled by their sorrow to move on. He would have helped you too."

"My memories are me!" Nagi snapped back. "I'd just as soon give you my arm as surrender a single one."

"So what do we do with them?" Eishun asked.

"I don't have time to waste on this, so I'll put a compulsion on you, doctor," Nagi told them. "You will present yourself to the headmaster of Meldiana and tell him about your operation here. I'll let the Grand Magus sort it out."

"Now wait a moment," the doctor exclaimed. "Can't we …"

But Nagi was already flipping through a well worn booklet. "Here we go, oaths and geases," he announced. "**Manman terro terro** …"

--

**A/N: Have you ever noticed that demons in the manga don't act very demonic? Count Wilhelm does, but the others have been merely obstacles to be overcome physically. Whatever became of tempting mortals to the dark side? I do realize that oni are substantially different from their Western counterparts, but, to relate it to Star Wars, more should be like Darth Sidious instead of Darth Maul. **

**The chapter heading is from the poem "Twardowski's Wife" a humorous poem about when the devil comes to collect a Polish nobleman's soul. **

**The song "Barracuda" was performed by Heart. AC/DC made "Back in Black" famous. "For the Benefit of Mister Kite," and "Strawberry Fields Forever" are both Beatles songs. **

**Bethlam Royal Hospital really existed and is better known by the name Bedlam. The Gherkin refers to the 30 St Mary Axe building. You can look it up on wikipedia.**

**Magicus Augeo translates to Magic Increase. This would be similar to Negi increasing the power he sent Asuna during her battle with Setsuna. I am presuming that all three of the cheerleaders have some sort of power that, like Sakurako's luck, they have been using without realizing.**

**Translation: "Io Cybele. Io Magna Mater. Impleat lapibus illis caloribem Magna Matris. Mulieribus pars vim tua det. Io, io Cybele" = "Hail Cybele. Hail Great Mother. Grant your precious stone (gift?) to those submissive servants of your Great Mother. Women that in your service have given birth to the force. Hail, hail Cybele."**


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: I'm beginning to feel the kid from "The Phantom Tollbooth" as he plods through the Doldrums. Alas Haissan, I feel the end may never get here. Must think; potato ice cream. Thanks again to Makuhari-Fan01 for his help and for allowing me to lift so much background from his stories, and also to Servious for the warning; I'll keep the security light on.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters, but there was never a question about that. Other characters, except as noted, are my creations and I take full and complete responsibility for them.**

**The following conventions are used: ****"**words**", '**thoughts**', ****"spells", **_memories_**, -**telepathy**-**

**Window of the Soul**

_**The eye, which is the reflector of the external world, is also the mirror of the soul within. **_**– **_G. Seaver_

--

Mahora, Japan

Phillip panted as he caught up to a waiting Kotaro. A slight smirk was on the paper boy's face as the teacher slowed to a walk. Sweat soaked the American's tee-shirt, chilling him in the early morning air. "Good run," he remarked in between breaths. With a shrug, the elementary -aged bodyguard indicated a steep hill where four remaining customers lived.

For a moment, the one-time airman was reminded of all the movies he'd watched where sadistic drill sergeants ran new recruits into the ground. Shaking his head, Phillip replied, "Not this morning."

Kotaro looked like he was about to argue the point. "You can cover the last ones quicker without me tagging along," the American pointed out. "Go on."

As the delivery boy trotted out of sight, the teacher leaned against a brick wall, thankful for the additional support. Being outperformed by men half his age was tolerable, but it really stung when it was done by eleven year old boys. Granted, Negi and Kotaro weren't your average kids, however that was scarce consolation to the man's pride. "All I need is for Fumika-san to take up bungee jumping," he muttered.

Toss in the fact he and his homeroom students had been targeted by a shadowy group of wizards, a magical mafia if you will, and it was a miracle he wasn't a nervous wreck. Attacks in California and Kyoto had been followed with more at Mahora. Like combat troops in a war zone, the constant state of being in the crosshairs was bound to take a toll. He'd have to be extra alert, though Phillip wasn't sure what could be done. School councilors weren't trained to deal with post traumatic stress disorder.

Trained professional, people who handled crisis as cool as an ice cube, had cracked under the conditions of war what with convoys that turned into fire fights, mortar attacks on dining halls, suicide bombers and the new terror of improvised explosive devices. And when they snapped, sometimes it was beyond the ability of doctors to put the pieces back together again. How could he take losing one of his students that way: Ayaka, Fumika, Chisame, Asuna … Madoka?

Glancing down, he noted an untied shoe lace. As he bent over, a gunshot shattered the morning silence. A bullet struck the wall, showering his back with brick fragments. Phillip rushed around the corner and ducked into a doorway as neighborhood lights turned on and windows flew open.

Seconds later, claws clattered against the street as a pack of large, jet black dogs raced into view. Their leader was a creature about the size of a Shetland pony, and could be called a dog only in the same way a saber-toothed tiger could be called a cat. The monstrous beast let loose a bone-chilling howl and the others scattered. It padded over and he could see the intelligence within its yellow eyes.

Heart pounding within his chest, the teacher stayed perfectly still as the creature sniffed him. Despite all he'd been through, Phillip was astounded when the dog spoke. "Stay," it growled in perfectly understandable English. With lips seemingly frozen together, the man could only mutely nod his agreement.

--

From his perch on the back of the couch, Chamo sent another white puff to join its brethren hovering just below the ceiling. Since Negi and the other middle school teachers were undergoing their annual safety training, the white-furred ermine had decided to enjoy a moment of relaxation. In the little more than a year he had been at Mahora, there had been precious few of those. Not that he begrudged the lack.

For the past 13 months, he had seen his friend develop that huge potential the boy had been gifted with, a potential that could have so easily been a millstone to lug around. Besides becoming an outstanding mage, Negi was also growing into an outstanding young man. However, there was still much to do.

"Like more pactios," the ermine told the smoky air. While Negi had more provisional partners than any other eleven year old, that number could have been doubled. "Maybe I should concentrate on his new class."

Although he received a hefty commission for each successful pactio made, it wasn't a matter of money. Well, maybe a little bit, but the boy needed the support of his partners. Too many times, Negi suffered from that I-have-to-do-everything-myself mentality. Eventually, the young mage would realize how much stronger those partners of his made him. Until then, Chamo would do his best to keep his charge on the right path. Hadn't he promised her that?

_Images of the snow covered hills around his nest rose before Chamo. Though too young to be out and about, the ermine had quietly slipped away to explore this strange and exciting world outside his burrow. A glow above a small rise caught his attention. Cresting a hill, the youngster gazed down at a fire, the first he had seen, blazing cheerfully within a ring of stones. A series of sticks had been thrust into the frozen ground, each bearing unknown items._

_Intrigued, he set off only to have his feet suddenly slip out from underneath. Down the icy slope Chamo slid, his belly encountering every protruding rock along the way. Damp fabric hung limply from the improvised stakes. An odd scent hung in the air, nothing like the muskiness of his brood mates, but it set the little ermine's nose to twitching. In turn, each article was sniffed, with the strongest concentration of odors around a triangular piece of white cloth. Standing upon hind legs, the youngster managed to knock it to the snow covered ground for a thorough inspection. _

_Choosing the largest of three opening, he moved inside as a screech filled the air, "What in bloody hell are you doing?"_

_Though Chamo didn't understand the words' meaning, their tone was loud and clear. Poking a head through anther opening, the ermine saw her staring at him. She was dressed in a tan-colored robe and reddish-brown hair fell to her shoulders. In her arms was cradled a bundle of sticks that fell to the ground as she charged, screaming "Leave my things alone vermin!"_

_In an instant, the ermine was in motion, skittering over snow and rocks, dragging the woman's panties along. Chamo heard the crunch of her two feet in the snow, and then it became four. A huffing sound came closer, accompanied by a whiff of damp fur. Twisting to the side, he avoided the snap of teeth where he had been. 'How could this get worse?' the youngster wondered as he began to zigzag up the slope. Besides being chased by a two-legger, he had a wolf in pursuit as well._

_No ermine has ever owned up to believing in a greater power, but Chamo prayed at that moment. 'Let me get back safely to my burrow and I'll never leave again,' he fervently promised whatever deity that might have been listening. Spotting a clump of brush, he bolted towards it but fell short as a paw pinned him to the ground._

_Squirming to look over his shoulder, Chamo beheld the furred muzzle and widely spaced eyes. Long, sharp teeth gleamed in the moonlight as white puffs rose from the creature's mouth. "Please don't eat me!" he pleaded. "Oh, who will look after my poor sisters?"_

_The hulking brute's from wavered as wolf changed into the robed woman. "I have no intention of eating you," the woman replied as she picked her trembling prey up. "You have something that belongs to me."_

_Stripping the fabric from him, she set Chamo back on the ground. "Have a care with other's things."_

"_I can go?"_

"_Stay or go, it matters not," the stranger said as she turned and began trudging back to the campfire. "Live or die, the sun still rises in the morning and sets in the evening."_

_Cautiously, he followed the woman who could switch from two to four legs back to the fire. She hung the panties back on its stick and gathered up the discarded wood. "Still here?" _

_Chamo sat upon his haunches, a black banded tail held curled above his head. "I'm not very good company," she said with a weary smile, "but make yourself at home."_

_He inched closer to the flames, felling their heat, but backed up as a loud pop sounded. Glaring at the fire provoked a soft chuckle of amusement from his new companion. Her hand reached into a pocket and drew out three nuts that she cast upon the ground. Without hesitation, the ermine rushed forward and snatched one up._

_Greedily, Chamo nibbled its sweet meat. Belated recalling the manners his mother insisted upon, he glanced up at his benefactor and hastily swallowed. "Thank you."_

"_What's your name?"_

"_Albert," he proudly answered. "Are all two-leggers like you?"_

"_Some," the stranger replied. "Some are nicer and others aren't."_

_Finishing the first nut, he ran to the next and began devouring it as well. "I know a little boy who seems just as hungry as you," the woman remarked. "His name is Negi."_

"_What's he like?"_

"_Much like all children his age," she answered. "He eats, sleeps, cries and makes messes."_

"_Is his nest nearby?"_

"_No," she sadly replied. "Do you know where other two-leggers like me live?"_

_Slowly he shook his head in response. "It's that way," she told him, pointing behind her. "One day, Negi will be there."_

"_Does he have a large family?" Chamo asked, thinking of his crowded den._

"_No, he's all alone Albert." Sadness again descended upon her face. "No brothers or sisters. Not even a mother or father anymore."_

"_That's terrible," the youngster said with a shudder. "Did a wolf get them? A hawk?"_

"_Yes. A wolf got one and a hawk the other." The fire continued to crackle as morning began its unhurried approach. "Little Negi is all alone."_

_While there were times Chamo wished the burrow wasn't so tightly packed, he couldn't imagine going through life without his siblings to scuffle with. His tiny frame shook in spite of the heat. "If Negi was here, I'd play with him."_

_Her smile encouraged him further. "I'd find lots of friends for him," the ermine declared._

_A wistful look was on her face as she lifted a hand. On a finger rested a metal band that began to glow with a soft green light. "Will you promise me something Albert?" the woman asked. "Should you two ever meet, will you be Negi's friend? Will you help him to not be alone?"_

"_Yes," he cried with the enthusiasm of youth._

_Light flared out from the ring, filling the tiny vale and causing spots to hover before his dazzled eyes. When sight returned, Chamo lay upon his back and gazed at a blue sky. The woman had vanished, taking the interesting smelling fabrics with her, but the stranger's scent lingered faintly in the chill air._

Back in the dorm room, he took another puff on the cigarette. He'd done his best to keep that promise made ten years ago. When next he met the woman, and the ermine was sure he would again, he would face her square in the eye and say "I kept my word."

"Until then," he muttered, "we need more pactios."

A key rattled as the lock turned. Phillip stepped into the living room, still dressed in jogging clothes. Quickly the man peeled off the sweat soaked shirt and laid it over his shoulder.

"That was kind of a long jog wasn't it?" the ermine asked.

"I finished jogging hours ago Albert," Phillip replied. "It was answering all those questions after being shot at that took time."

"Shot at?" the ermine responded as the cigarette fell to the floor.

"Yeah," the man confirmed as he picked the smoldering butt up and set it on an ashtray. "Lucky for me whoever wasn't very good. We're three for three so far."

"What are the headmaster and Kuzunoha-san going to do?"

"All they can I'm sure," Phillip replied as the shoes came off next. "As for me, I'm the dorm advisor for this week."

"Dorm advisor?"

"That's right," the teacher responded. "Every week one of the faculty sits on the first floor of each student dorm and handles issues that arise outside of class time. The Air Force did the same thing when I was an instructor at Wichita Falls, only they called it the Charge of Quarters."

"Are you moving over now?"

"Right after I shower," the man answered and then disappeared into his bedroom.

Chamo hopped down and picked his cigarette back up as the sound of water rushing through pipes sounded. Moments later, a worried Sayo materialized.

"Is Markham-sensei okay?" the ghostly student asked. "He didn't show up and Professor Gandolfini would only say there was an accident."

"Accident," the ermine responded. "Someone tried to shoot him."

"Oh no," Sayo cried as hands flew to her face.

"But Markham-san's alright," he told the overwrought specter. "In fact, he's in the shower."

To his amazement, the ghost turned and ran through the adjoining wall. This was followed a split second later by a surprised shout. Chamo watched as the ghost girl swiftly fled with eyes covered. Adding another puff to the smoke cloud, the ermine considered the teacher watching a dorm with 700 high school girls. "This could be fun."

--

Mana sat hunched over the computer screen, scanning each row in turn. From out in the hallway, she heard the scuffle of rubber soled sneakers followed by a "Hello Mana-san." The dark-haired mercenary twisted to find her pupil standing in the doorway.

"Are we training this afternoon?" Yuna asked.

"No. I'm checking out some information," she answered. "A spent shell casing was found nearby where Markham-sensei was shot at. The bullet was a 7.62x54 millimeter round."

"What's so special about that?" the ballplayer asked.

"From what sensei described, it sounded like a bolt action rifle was used," Mana replied. "Standard rounds for single-shot sniper rifles are either larger, like the .30-06, or a lot smaller. I'm looking up what models use this round against the military club's collection."

"Oh, real CSI stuff," the girl remarked as she pulled up a chair. "But why the military club's collection?"

"Security can easily track down registered weapons that size," the sharpshooter answered as she highlighted a line in one open window and began to scroll through the other. "But a lot of people on campus have access to this collection."

"Oh," Yuna answered and then frowned. "Why are you switching back and forth like that? Wouldn't it be easier to use a filter?"

"Filter?"

"Yeah. Click on the data tab," Yuna instructed. "You see that icon that looks like a funnel?"

Minutes later, they were examining at a list of a half-dozen entries. "That is quick," Mana replied. "Where did you learn this from?"

"Before I moved into the dorm, I used to help my dad with his research," the girl replied. "He taught me all kinds of neat shortcuts."

Mana sent the list to a printer and then unlocked the ammunition vault. "You'll find the 54 millimeter rounds in those drawers," she told her apprentice. "Ensure they're all accounted for while I check on the rifles."

Yuna slid open the top drawer and glanced at the number of cardboard boxes in it. "That's a lot of boxes."

"You've heard the line about success being 10 percent inspiration and 90 percent perspiration?" the mercenary asked. "I think you've already had the inspiration with those filters."

--

Madoka carried her deceased toaster on the way to the dumpster. Being both plastic and metal, the teen wasn't sure which bin it was supposed to go in so had decided on the bulk trash. Passing by the advisor's door, she heard a familiar voice ask, "Where is this job of yours Miss Karakuri?"

"It's on Okuma Street in the entertainment district," Chachamaru replied.

Stopping outside of the office, the girl's heart raced as she heard Markham-sensei's reply. "Since your other teachers have signed, I'll approve this as well," Phillip told her. "But I expect you to maintain your current grades."

Chachamaru quickly assured him that would be the case. "Is there anything else?" the man asked.

"I do have one other issue," the gynoid answered. "This form requires the consent of my parents or guardians."

"And Miss MacDowell was your guardian."

Madoka stepped over to the open door as her robotic classmate nodded in affirmation. "Is there anyone else who could sign," their teacher asked.

"Hakase-san, as my creator, would be the logical choice, but she's still considered a minor," Chachamaru responded. "Would you be willing to sign as my guardian?"

Madoka felt a twitch as Phillip exclaimed, "Me?"

"You are familiar with my circumstances," the other girl pointed out. "Takahata-sensei might do it, but he is busy with Kotaro-kun and another little boy."

"If I sign, am I obligated for anything else?"

"You'll need to recertify permission at the start of each term."

"Where do I need to sign?"

"Right there," the gynoid said as Madoka glanced into the office. Markham handed the completed application to the robot.

"Thank you sensei," Chachamaru said. "Hello Kugimiya-san."

"Hi," Madoka responded.

Her knees turned watery as her teacher smiled. "Welcome to Grand Central Station Madoka-san," he said. "Will there be anything else Miss Karakuri?"

"No, sir," the robot answered as another student poked her head in.

Hakase Satomi began to say something in Japanese and then switched to English when the scientist recognized her homeroom teacher. "I'm glad you're alright Mister Markham," the girl said. "You were missing today and all the substitute would say was that there was an accident but you were okay."

"I'm fine," Phillip assured his student. "How can I help you?"

"I'd like to check out the key to the rec room downstairs," Hakase answered. "And Chachamaru, would you mind helping me move some things to the basement?"

As her fellow students left with the key, Madoka sat down. "Let me see about your toaster," sensei said as pried apart a set of handles, revealing an assortment of tools. After unscrewing the bottom plate, he shone a flashlight into the cavity.

"That your problem," he said as he stuck the end of a pencil inside and knocked a blackened lump loose. "It should be fine now."

"I was worried about you sensei," she said as he reassembled her toaster. "What happened?"

"Someone took a shot at me," Phillip explained. "I don't think they were serious about it since the bullet struck the wall well above my head."

"First MacDowell-san, then all of these other attempts …" she said. "We're all targets aren't we?"

She watched him as the man silently nodded.

"I'm scared," Madoka told him.

"I am too," her teacher admitted. "But it's not the first time I've been under fire."

He gazed at her with those compassionate eyes of his. "You don't have to stay Madoka-san," he said. "Nobody would think badly of you for wanting to leave."

"Um, but the headmaster …"

"Made a request," Phillip interjected. "He won't hold anyone against their will."

A sudden fear gripped the teen. "Do you want me to go?"

Phillip started to say something and then stopped to think. Slowly he answered, "Only if you want to go. I was being truthful when I said I'm glad you stayed; it really does mean a lot to me. Of course, if something were to happen to you … or one of your classmates …"

'Eyes are the window to the soul' was a familiar saying, but Madoka had never really thought much about its meaning. Understanding came as she gazed into the man's eyes and saw the conflict as he struggled between the need to speak and the desire to protect. "You saw something, didn't you?"

A startled expression confirmed her suspicion. "What was it?"

A moment of painful silence followed her question. Reluctantly, he answered. "I saw you weeping over the bodies of your friends."

--

Misa stared down at the open math book, pretending to work on that evening's assignment. "I can fulfill your every fantasy," the demon had promised. "No matter what it is." Those words kept spinning around her mind as if caught in a revolving door. With a sigh the student closed the text and leaned back in her chair. Absent-mindedly a hand rubbed the back of her neck.

By no means did the girl consider herself a pervert. She didn't stalk people, try to peek in through the window as they disrobed or steal their underwear. Thinking about sex or indulging in a harmless daydream or two didn't hurt anyone. Yet having the succubus lay her secret thoughts bare made Misa feel filthy, and no amount of effort could scrub that feeling away. In her family she had been taught that sex was a natural part of life, an experience meant to be enjoyed, but now doubt and shame assailed her. I'm not a bad person she wanted to cry.

She had recoiled at the demon's suggestion yet a part of her wondered what all the fuss was about. "Get a grip Misa," she scolded herself. "No matter how noble a sacrifice she makes it sound like, Himeiko-san's not out to do you any favors."

"She'll probably try to grab your soul." Still she wondered what to do about the demon running around the campus, dragging Chizuru's and who knew else's reputation through the gutter. What would she do if the demon pretended to be her? Or Sakurako? Or Madoka?

At that moment, her roommate walked in, clutching the toaster to her chest. "I thought you were going to ditch that a get a new one," she said, but her friend continued on into the kitchen as if she hadn't heard. Quickly, the teen got out of her chair and followed. Madoka set the appliance on the counter and just stared at it. The dark-haired girl's face had a blank look to it and reminded her of a movie zombie.

"Madoka," she softly called. Misa gasped at the haunted look in her friend's eyes. "What happened?"

Hands grabbed her blouse as Madoka's head pressed into her shoulder. Her arms automatically wrapped around the shuddering girl. Forgetting her trouble for the moment, Misa just held on as tears fell like a quiet rain.

--

Ariadne School of Magic, Mundus Magicus

As a young broom rider in the Imperial Army, Professor Akashi had been well acquainted with the famed Valkyrie Brigade of Ariadne. Seras had been the youngest commander in its storied history, a position justified by her performance during the Third Battle of Ostia when her knights held off the bulk of Total World's forces while the Crimson Wing attacked the Grave Keeper's Palace. Now she was the headmaster of the largest magic school in either world; an office, many argued, that placed her on a level with the Empress of Hellas and the President of the Messembrian Senate.

"How is Konoemon doing?" she asked with an easy familiarity.

"Konoe-sama is still in fine health," he answered. "He sends his fondest regards."

"It seems your vacation has been anything but relaxing professor."

"Yes, I haven't seen so much activity for the last twenty years," Akashi pointedly remarked.

Seras' expression remained neutral though the professor was sure the woman understood his meaning. "But then things aren't much better in the Old World either," he continued.

"I had the pleasure of meeting a couple of your fellow teachers during last year's Ostian Festival," the horned woman said. "I was very impressed with Professor Springfield and his students. If I recall correctly, one of his students was your daughter."

"Your memory is quite good Grandmistress Seras," Akashi responded. "And Springfield-san is a most impressive young man."

"I also find your assistant interesting as well," the woman commented. "Several of my teenaged students seem quite taken with him. I trust he'll conduct himself properly."

Oishi-san had handled himself well during their trip, but did seem stressed recently by his sudden popularity. Akashi was also certain that something had passed between the young man and the Nekomimi bounty hunter, but that wasn't his business. However, a pair of panties mailed from Ariadne was a matter of concern. "I assure you that his conduct has been beyond reproach," the professor said. "As I'm sure you can say for your young ladies."

An ear twitched at his statement, but the Grandmistress kept smiling. "Then there is nothing to worry about. How long will you be staying professor?"

--

Following his cloaked guide, Hiro stepped into a long gallery that opened onto a panoramic view of the city. "Hold up a minute Cadet Sevensheep," the young man called out. "I'd like to take a look."

Dutifully, the blonde-haired girl stopped. She frowned as he pulled out a cigarette and carefully lit it, cupping his hands to shield it from a pervasive wind.

"This is quite impressive," he said in between drags.

"Our annual broom rally starts and ends here," Emily informed him.

"Broom rally," Hiro responded. "You race around on broomsticks?"

"Broom riding as an important skill Mister Oishi," the girl replied. "And the rally is more than a simple race. We compete as two-person teams and are allowed to use magic to hinder our opponents."

"Oh, you cast fireballs and lightning bolts at one another."

"Attack spells are forbidden," the sheep-eared cadet said. "We use mostly disarming techniques. Very few teams wind up with their clothing intact."

"A giant strip battle then?" The smirk on his face earned a scowl from his companion. "Too bad I missed it. I suppose your team won?"

"No," Emily answered between clenched teeth. "My team finished dead last."

"Oh, well then …"

"Beatrix and I were in first place, but all the noise disturbed a Griffon Dragon nesting in the nearby forest," the girl quickly added. "We managed to led it away from the course and lose it among the trees. By the time we returned to the race, it was too late to overtake the other competitors."

"That was quite a feat," he said. "I can see why your mother describes you in such glowing terms."

"I've been assigned the task to escort you around the school Mister Oishi," she explained. "Don't feel you have to flatter me or anything like that."

Hiro dropped the cigarette to the ground and crush it beneath his shoe. "Looks like you can see straight through me. I must be pretty transparent."

As she rounded on the young man, Hiro noted the angry flush in her cheeks. "I can respect all you've done, but that doesn't make you a hero in my book," she said with a hand on her hip and the other pointing at him. "I've seen real heroes and you fall short by a long stretch."

"I couldn't agree with you more," he observed, causing the cadet to do a double take. "It's refreshing to find somebody who isn't so easily impressed."

Her stunned expression made him want to laugh, but the assassin maintained his control. From the far end of the gallery, they heard a "Hey! Emi!"

A teenage boy wearing blue slacks and blazer with what looked like a white lab coat over top, hurried towards them, waving as he moved. Emily rolled her eyes as the boy approached, her face fixed in a "why me?" expression. "Don't call me Emi!" she shouted back.

Hiro noted that a pair of cone-shaped horns stuck out on either side of the newcomer's head, just above the boy's ears. Those ears were similar to Emily's save they were covered in fur the same dark color as his hair. The coat fluttered in the wind as he jogged over.

"I was told you went this way," the boy said breathlessly. "Who's your friend?"

"This is Oishi Kuranosuke," the cadet answered. "Mister Oishi is a visitor from Mahora."

"Oh, so you're the one all the girls are talking about," the stranger remarked. "Half of the boys in my class already hate your guts."

"Daffyd!" Emily said through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

"I understand you still don't have a date for the spring dance," the boy answered. "So once again I renew my offer to escort you." As he finished, Daffyd made a dramatic bow with one hand upon his chest and the other arm stuck out to the side.

"And once again I'm telling you thanks but no thanks," the girl responded. "I'm not interested in going to a dance, so I'd appreciate it if you'd stop pestering me about it."

Another voice called out "Cadet Sevensheep!" From the entrance they came from, a uniformed woman stood. Emily excused herself and ran back to report.

Hiro pulled out another cigarette and lit it. "Do your classmates really hate me?"

"Not much," Daffyd answered. "They're jealous because none of the girls talk about them. So have you known Emily long?"

"We met at a gladiator convention a short while ago," the assassin replied. "I wound up travelling on the same airship as her mother on the trip here from Megalo-Messembria."

"So you're like a family friend?"

"I think you could call me that," Hiro answered. "Are you in the Mage Knight School too?"

"Me?" the boy said in disbelief. "No way could I get into there. I attend the Academy for the Advancement of Catalyst Magic."

"Excuse me, but what is catalyst magic?"

An incredulous expression crossed Daffyd's face at his question. "You're from Mahora right?"

"I'm in the chemical engineering program," he explained. "I'm not familiar with different types of magic."

"Well instead of using straight incantations, catalyst mages combine different substances with spells to produce a magical effect," the boy told him. "We're like alchemist, but not as focused on transformative spells."

"I guess your laboratory must be large."

"It's the biggest in all of Ariadne," Daffyd proudly claimed.

"I'm doing my studies on this trip and having access to a lab would be helpful," Hiro said. "I don't suppose you could lend a hand with that could you?"

Emily had started to walk back as the student mage scratched his head. Before he could be refused, Hiro made an offer. "If I can get Emily to go to the dance with you, will you get me some lab time?"

"Sure," the boy answered. "But you heard her; she's not interested in going."

"Just leave that to me," the assassin said. "Oh, and I have a list of chemicals I'd appreciate your help in locating."

--

From up ahead, Hiro heard the click-clack of swords striking one another. Emily had led him into a large hall she called the salle. At least two dozen people, clothed with protective vests and masks, were practicing with swords. A tall, thin man, with blonde hair that fell to the middle of his back, walked among the fencers. He would often stop their matches and correct one or both combatants before letting them resume.

Emily introduced the man as Arn Magnusson, the school's master of swords. "Very please to meet you Mister Oishi," the man said, gripping Hiro's hand firmly.

"I'm surprised to see mages studying swordplay," the assassin commented.

"You shouldn't be," the man responded. "Swordplay, as you call it, increases stamina and sharpens reflexes. Both are important even in a combat with spells."

"Farandol! Monroe!" the man called out suddenly, causing one pair to put up their blades. Pushing up their masks, Hiro saw his other companions from the convention.

"Do not bend the front ankle on your lunge Miss Farandol," Magnusson corrected. "Miss Monroe, you left yourself wide open to her attack."

Beatrix quickly glanced at Hiro and then returned her gaze to the instructor. "Yes sir."

"Concentrate on your opponent Miss Monroe," the man continued. "The battlefield is unforgiving of mistakes."

Magnusson called a halt for the day and released the cadets. Hiro stepped over to Collet and Beatrix as they put away their equipment. Both girls' faces were covered with a sheen of sweat. "Hello Miss Farandol, Miss Monroe," he said.

"Hi," Collet replied. "Doing the whole school tour thing huh?"

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Emily begin to tap her foot impatiently. "I understand there's going to be a big dance soon."

"It's the first dance of the school year," the beagle-eared girl said. "They'll have live music and all kinds of food."

"Miss Monroe, would you do me the honor of letting me escort you to this dance?" he asked. A series of astonished gasps rippled about the room.

Beatrix' face took on a deer in the headlights look as voices erupted around them. She glanced at her ojou-sama for help, but Emily looked even more surprised than her. "Uh … well … I," the girl stammered.

"I understand if you already made plans," Hiro said, "but I'd consider this a huge favor."

"Er, okay," the dark-haired cadet finally said, prompting a round of cheers from several of her classmates.

"Woo-hoo!" Collet shouted above the din as she clapped a hand on the other girl's back. "Way to go Beatrix!"

Classmates converged on the confused girl as conversation turned to dresses, shoes and hairstyles. The assassin stepped back from the fray and turned to find Emily glaring at him. If this worked out, he'd soon have his lab time; that is if Cadet Sevensheep didn't strangle him first.

--

After securing the salle doors, Magnusson sat upon one the student benches and removed a gold pocket watch. Flipping open the lid, the fencing master stared down at the crystal cover over the watch face and chanted the invocation spell. In an instant, the man's consciousness speed over land and sea, like a bird on the wing, to a distant place.

'May the light of truth shine upon you,' he thought.

-And also on you brother, - came the ritualized response. -What have you to report?-

'Our visitors from Mahora have arrived.'

-As was expected.-

'What am I to do about them?'

-Nothing at the moment, - the other answered. -You're move valuable as our ears within the school than as a hand at present. Besides, there is little those two can do in Ariadne to interfere.-

'One could say the same about Megalo-Messembria or Phoenicis too,' Magnusson pointed out.

-True, - the mental voice conceded. -However, we don't have any operations there at present. You need merely observe and report.-

'I understand brother,' Magnusson replied.

-May the light shine upon you.-

'And also on you.'

Once contact was broken, the swordsman's awareness returned to the room. The two agents from Mahora had proven to be more than nuisances. The younger man had foiled two plots now, though undoubtedly under Akashi's direction, and both were on his doorstep. He itched to rid them of these problem children, the faithful were meant to act not watch from the shadows, but he would do as instructed. Perhaps they might be obliging enough to force the brotherhood's hand. The thought of running a blade through that pompous upstart's heart brought a savage smile of anticipation.

--

**A/N: The quote about the eyes being the window to the soul has been around for centuries. While often attributed to biblical writers, the line from the book "Scott of Antarctic" is the closest I can find to it.**

**Arn Magnusson was the main character from a series of novels written by Jan Guillou about a Swedish knight who fought in the First Crusade. My character is a bit less noble.**

**Until next time …**


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: As with the previous chapter, we have a number of stories going on at once. I hope it is not too confusing. Thanks again to those of you who have reviewed.**

**The passage read in class in from "The Talisman" by King and Straub. And yes Servious, it is Morgan, not Martin Sloat. Good catch.  
**

**Like always, Negima and its characters are owned by Ken Akamatsu. Other characters are of my own, out-of-kilter imagination.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**,- telepathy-, _memories_

**Walking Through Fire**

_**What matters most is how well you walk through the fire –**__Henry Charles Bukowski_

--

**Girl's High School, Mahora Japan**

"Good morning sensei!"

Phillip gazed about the classroom. Most of his student's faces were cheerful this morning, Miss Konoe's painfully so, but one glum looking girl in the second row concerned him.

"Be seated," his teaching assistant said and the room was filled by the sounds of chairs scraping across floor tiles, papers rustling and books landing on table tops. Setting the class roster before him, his finger tip touched a picture. "Miss Aisaka," he called.

Sayo, still dressed in her sailor-style uniform, appeared in the seat next to her red-headed friend. After the previous day's shower incident, the girl kept her eyes focused on her desk but had her hand raised. Thanks to his mother's help, transparent legs extended below the hem of the ghostly student's skirt. The teacher grinned as he noted a pair of mismatched knee socks.

After finishing with attendance, he set the roster aside. "Very well class, let's begin where we left off on Friday," Phillip said. "Miss Shiina, will you please read."

Sakurako stood and flipped through the paperback until finding the marked page.

… Jack staggered again. The world kept wanting to swim out of focus. Trickles of warm blood ran down his back. He looked at Osmond with swift-awakening hatred, and it was good to feel that hatred. It was a welcome antidote to the fear and the confusion.

_You did that – you hurt me, you cut me. And listen to me, Jiggs, if I get a chance to pay you back-_

"Are you all right?" the Captain whispered.

"Yes."

"Thank you Miss Shiina," the teacher said. As the orange-haired girl sat down, Phillip continued. "If the captain of the guard wants to save his queen, why did he allow Jack to be whipped? Miss Izumi?"

Ako appeared surprised to be called upon and hesitated in her reply. "Maybe the captain didn't want to give away Jack's cover?"

"If Jack was supposed to be the man's son, wouldn't it be natural to rush to his defense?" Phillip asked. "Might it not be more suspicious to stand aside like that?"

"Maybe it a test," Ku Fei suggested. "If Jack no strong enough, he not be able to save queen."

"But this test could get the boy killed."

"Captain think Jack face worse ahead," the Chinese girl responded. "If boy no take this, he not able to finish quest."

"What do the rest of you think?" Phillip asked. "Miss Kugimiya?"

Madoka looked up at him with the same blank expression that had worried Phillip all morning. A part of him cursed himself for having told the girl what he saw during Yukimi's vision, yet he knew she had a right to know.

"If I knew how to stop such awful things from happening, I would," the young seer had claimed. The American hadn't any more of clue now than he did then, but the image of Madoka mourning over her two friends was a future Phillip desperately wanted to change.

"I … I don't …" the teen started to answer.

"Miss Kugimiya, consider that a twelve year old boy appears literally out of nowhere, tells the captain he's suppose to save the queen and produces a sign recognized by the old warrior," Phillip said. "Would testing the boy's resolve by letting him be beat, possibly to death, make sense?"

"Maybe," the girl hesitantly answered. "But … it could be … it could be he didn't have a choice."

Phillip dared not breathe as he watched Madoka's expression change into a thoughtful one. "Maybe the captain felt the situation was beyond his control and he could only wait for a chance to present itself."

"But why risk Jack like that?"

"The captain and the guard were all that was preventing Morgan Sloat from taking over," the girl responded. "In helping Jack, the captain might have been eliminated and the queen left unprotected."

"Very good Miss Kugimiya," Phillip said with a relieved grin. "A little further on we see that the captain is willing to aid Jack, but only to a point. Under no circumstances will he leave his queen unguarded."

Glancing about the room, the teacher was gratified that all of his students were paying attention. 'A twelve year old boy being an unlikely hero seems to be something they can relate to,' he thought.

"Miss Sakurazaki, please start reading from the point Miss Shiina stopped."

--

Yuna stood on the cement pad, hand resting lightly on the holstered revolver at her side. Having grown up at Mahora, she had thought herself familiar with the area around the city. Near picnic tables her family had used over the years was a steep-sided hill. Said hill turned out to be earth and sod heaped around an outdoor shooting range. A thought came suddenly as the girl wondered if all of those family outings were timed with practice sessions.

After working through boxes of ammunition yesterday, she found one with a single round missing. Mana brought in a Russian rifle that fired the proper sized bullets. The Mosin-Nagant had been fired and put away without being cleaned; something no member of the club would dare do. Nor had anyone signed it out. But when she asked the mercenary about it, Mana replied that campus security had been informed.

Her tutor finished placing the final target. Three, human silhouettes were lined up in a row, about 10 meters from the edge of the shooter's circle. "Learning to use a gun is like any other skill," the tall sharpshooter said. "You improve only with usage, and that means practice."

"Just like in basketball, tactical shooting has drills," Mana continued. "This drill is simple. I want you to fire two rounds into each of the targets, reload and fire two more rounds into each."

"That's easy."

"Ah but there's a catch," her mentor said. "You need to do it as quickly as you can and I'll be timing you."

Mana moved to the side of the pad opposite of the targets and had Yuna face her. Holding a stop watch, the mercenary instructed her pupil to clasp hands in front of her.

"Why?"

"Just do it," the taller girl said, followed by "Go!"

Yuna turned and shot six rounds into the targets. Quickly she emptied the spent shells and slapped new cartridges in with a speedloader. The loader dropped to the ground as she secured the chamber and fired another six bullets.

"Thirteen seconds," her coach said with a frown.

"Is that bad?"

"Not for a first time," Mana answered. "Let's say there's definite room for improvement."

"What am I doing wrong coach?"

"Well for one thing, you're aiming your shots."

"Isn't that what I'm supposed to do?" Yuna asked, baffled by the criticism.

"Yes, however this isn't like target shooting," the other girl replied. "When I told you to aim for the center of mass, that doesn't mean every shot has to be closely grouped. A bullet causes trauma in about a five centimeter radius. To inflict the most damage, you need to place your second shot outside that circle."

Intellectually, Yuna grasped what was being said and could accept it; however another side of her was unnerved by the implications.

"Something wrong?" the dark-haired mercenary asked. "You're making a face."

Looking down at the revolver in her hand, Yuna could still feel its heat. "I hadn't really thought about it before, but I might have to … to kill someone."

Once more she was on the rooftop as Natsumi's little brother argued with an assassin who meant to kill Ayaka-san. The man called Hiro raised his rifle as she sprang towards him. Kotaro-kun tried to stop her but she evaded the boy's clumsy rush and crashed into the hired killer, sending him over the rooftop's edge. Before Yuna's eyes the murderer struck the pavement below and lay still. "Again," came the whispered addition.

"That possibility is always going to exist," Mana replied. "Keep in mind that those you face won't hesitate to kill you, just as they murdered McDowell-san."

"Have you …?"

Mana's face was a mask without mercy as she responded with "What do you think?"

Gazing into her classmate's face, Yuna saw the same expression Hiro had worn as he coolly raised the rifle. It was the expression of someone prepared to snuff out a life. "I … I think," she stammered in reply, "I think I need to reload and try this again."

--

Library Island, Mahora Japan

Light from an artificial sun shone down on what appeared to be a grassy field surrounded by a forest of pine trees. At one end of the field rested a sphere, as large as a house, of dark, swirling matter. On the other end was an equally large globe that glowed with electric energy. Steady barrages of basketball-sized orbs streamed from the dark sphere and were matched by crackling orbs of lightning.

Asuna flexed her shoulders, flapping a pair of angel-like wings drawn by Haruna. The bell-wearing teen swooped below one of Imma-san's gravity orbs as she moved closer to her goal. She had been distrustful of the mangaka's experiments after her initial attempts, but Asuna had to admit her comrade had much improved since then. Sensing movement on her right, she banked left and brought her sword up to block Setsuna's nodachi. The winged swordswoman grinned fiercely as she sailed past, but Asuna knew the swordswoman would swiftly return.

Another of the dark globes hurtled towards her and Asuna brought her blade up. It detonated on contact, throwing the sword-wielding teen backwards. "**Foa zo cratica Socratica!**" carried above the din and three arrows of light fired in response. Reaching out with her will, Asuna concentrated on draining their magic, causing each of the brilliant missiles to wink out of existence.

-Asuna!- Nodoka warned. -Bandit at 9 o'clock!-

In response, Asuna dove down letting her winged adversary pass harmlessly overhead. 'There's too many,' she thought back to the mind reader. 'Can Kaede help out?'

-She's busy holding off Kotaro-kun,- Honya-chan answered. -And Haruna's got her hands full with Ku Fei.-

'Aw crap,' Asuna thought as Yue began another spell. A spear-shaped lightning bolt shimmered as it launched towards the girl. As she gripped her sword two-handed, Nodoka's voice sounded in the back of her mind, -Help is on the way.-

With a perfect backhand stroke, she deflected Yue's attack. A white-haired figure somersaulted through the air and landed on the end of her spell-slinging adversary's broom. Using it like a spring board, Zazie flipped away, upending both broom and rider. The little mage tumbled down to be caught by Setsuna as Asuna raced towards the bit of red cloth that served as the opposing team's flag.

With less than a meter to go, the grass-covered field went blank as the scene reverted to the interior of Imma-san's training chamber. Asuna spun about to see Kotaro grinning as he waved a strip of white cloth high above his head.

"Well done," Albireo remarked as he glided over. "Did you get all of the battle?"

Six drones hovered around their red-headed master who smiled back. "I've recorded the whole thing," Asakura assured him.

"We'll review while resting," the robed mage told them. With a clap of his hands, they were back on the deck of his dwelling. As the others descended upon a table loaded with refreshments, Asuna approached the enigmatic wizard.

"Is there something you want?" he asked.

"Negi has asked me to become his permanent partner," she replied.

"Fu, fu, fu, that is a bit of a surprise" the man responded. "How did you answer?"

"I told him it's too early yet."

"Do you want to be his partner?"

"I think I do, but I can't make that commitment yet," she responded. "There's so much about myself that's a mystery. It wouldn't be fair to Negi to accept not knowing."

She looked at Albireo, her eyes pleading for those missing pieces of her past. "You did something during the tournament to help me remember. You know me from … before."

An intolerable weight seemed to settle about her as the mage returned her gaze. "Though I acted with the best of intentions, I did a terrible thing to you Asuna," he said. "In trying to spare you anguish, I took away your past, your identity, all that made you who you were …"

Though she stood before a projected image of the man, Asuna could feel his sorrow as he spoke. "You know that locked inside you is another being, one with the power create and destroy worlds."

"The Imperial Princess of the Twilight?" the girl whispered.

"Twice now, she had gained control over you," Albireo explained. "Both times it took men willing to sacrifice their very lives to defeat her. Open any more doors to your past and we risk giving her control yet again."

"How can I go on without knowing?"

"Do you want to make the sacrifices by those who love you meaningless gestures?"

That question struck harder than any blow. With downcast eyes she answered, "No."

Albireo placed a hand on her shoulder and, for an illusion, it seemed solid enough. "I've done nothing to earn your trust, but I ask you to trust me in this," the mage told her. "Better to concentrate on the Asuna who is than the one who was."

Kotaro shouted something at Negi and both heads snapped around as the boys engaged in a friendly scuffle. "Let go of the past and embrace the present," he counseled while following her gaze towards her partner. "There are a number of people who love you just as you are."

--

Teachers' Dormitory, Mahora Japan

Ishikawa-sensei's maid opened the door in response to her knock. Madoka was dressed for the cheer squad practice and Himeiko gave her the once over, making the teen feel self conscious. Smiling, the other girl asked, "Your friend's not with you tonight?"

"If you mean Misa, she's setting up for our practice," the cheerleader answered. "She's the team captain."

"That's too bad," the Himeiko remarked. "I so enjoyed our previous chat; I'd hoped Kakizaki-san would want to continue with it."

"Come in," the maid beckoned. "Mistress, Kugimiya-san is here."

As Madoka had come to expect, the heavy-set teacher was seated at the low table with her ever present tea cup, but seemed to be grading papers. "I don't recall asking you to come over this evening," the woman said.

"You didn't sensei," Madoka admitted. "I wanted to ask you something important."

Ishikawa raised an eyebrow at her comment, but said nothing.

"Will you teach me magic?" she blurted out. "I want to learn anything and everything you can show me."

An amused expression appeared in response to the student's request. "That could take more than your lifetime," Ishikawa-sensei said. "You hadn't seemed very enthusiastic before. Why the sudden change?"

"I remembered what you said about needing to learn to protect my friends," she answered. "Every day somebody else is put in danger, and I don't like the feeling that there's nothing I can do about it. How many times will the bullet miss?"

The woman flinched at that remark, but nodded her head in understanding. "Very well Kugimiya-san," sensei responded. "I'll need three uninterrupted hours to start with. Can you meet with me tomorrow after classes?"

"Good," the woman said at her nod. "Do you know where the garden the Tea Ceremony club uses is?"

"Sure. We attended an outdoor ceremony with Negi-kun at the festival last year."

"I'll expect you then," the woman told her. "Bring Kakizaki-san and Shiina-san along if you can, but nobody else. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sensei."

--

Daycare Center, Mahora Japan

It had been a busy afternoon at the daycare center Chizuru thought as she waited for the shift supervisor to sign off her hours. Though community service was required as a condition of her scholarship, the student didn't mind working with children despite the noise, messes and more than occasional squabbles. Growing up as an only child, she missed not having siblings around even if her classmates were prone to complain about theirs. That was one reason the girl was glad to have Kotaro-kun around; he was so much like a little brother.

Chizuru thought it a shame that the boy had to move out, but he seemed happy enough to stay at Takahata-sensei's apartment. And she did get to see him nearly every day. 'And a good thing too," she thought. 'Sensei never checks to see if Kotaro-kun's underwear has holes or not.'

Finally stepping outside of the center, the amply endowed teen glanced about for her escort but found only the white-haired boy whom Takahata-sensei brought back from his last trip. "Hello Mihai-kun. Where's …"

"The English Research Club is meeting today," the youngster answered and Chizuru nodded her head in understanding. At first, she had thought the club was thought up by Kagurazaka-san to keep an eye on Negi-kun. In a way it was, but the club also provided a cover for those closest to their little professor to secretly train. Though disappointed, she wouldn't begrudge Kotaro-kun the chance to improve; they were certainly going to need it.

"I can walk with you to the dormitory," Mihai offered, "if you don't mind."

Together they set off for the student housing area. Mihai Dragomir appeared to be a nine or ten year old boy, but acted oddly. While curious and full of questions, his behavior seemed restrained and unemotional. In many ways, the boy reminded her of Chachamaru-san.

Thinking of her classmate, Chizuru wondered how the other girl's new job was going. Something about working in a new club downtown …

"Naba-san!" an unwelcomed voice called. Watanabe-san, a sixteen year old delinquent, swaggered over with two of his buddies in tow. He had been bothering her at the beginning of the year and had been soundly thrashed by Markham-sensei and two of her classmates. She decided to just keep going without responding, but the boy would not be ignored. Quickly, he moved to block her.

"Don't walk away from me," he said angrily. "You've been making out all over campus. Why do I get the cold shoulder?"

Returning his glare, she replied, "I don't know where you're hearing this from, but I'm not making out with anyone!"

"Oh! And I suppose it wasn't you in the men's room stall with Fujita-san a couple of days ago!" Watanabe shouted back. "All the guys are talking about you! You're acting like some kind of cheap slut!"

Chizuru's hand stung in response to her slap. Watanabe's mouth hung open as the teen rubbed his cheek, now turning as red as the hand print decorating it. Cursing the teen reached for her, but stopped as Mihai grasped his wrist. "Let go of me punk," he warned.

The white-haired youngster said nothing but squeezed Watanabe's arm, causing the older boy to wince in pain. "I said to let go!" he yelled, pulling a fist back.

Mihai pulled down on the captured arm, causing the other boy to cartwheel. As Watanabe landed on the pavement, his two friends grabbed for the elementary student who seemed to vanish. The stunned boys glanced about as a pair of small hands reached from behind. Two heads cracked together and Watanabe's chums dropped to either side of their leader.

"I hope they didn't bother you too much," Mihai said as an astonished Chizuru stared at three groaning teens. No trace of emotion touched the face regarding her. Neither hint of gloating nor touch of regret; only a sense of detachment as if nothing of importance had occurred.

Unwilling to trust her own voice, she nodded and strained to smile reassuringly. Here was another one Chizuru realized, but Mihai was a Kotaro without the passion, a Negi without the empathy. 'Like a blank page,' she thought and wondered who would fill it up.

--

Ariadne, Mundus Magicus

Folds of pink satin lay in a heap about her feet as the seamstress extracted another pin from the side of her mouth and affixed it to the fabric. The mouse-eared woman moved to one side letting Beatrix view the mirror's image. "Is that the right height Miss?"

Inexperienced with formal wear, the cadet tried to judge how the finished gown would look. "I can make it shorter," the dressmaker offered.

"No, this will be fine," the dark-haired girl replied. "But I don't know if pink is the right color."

"That's no problem," the woman responded as she took hold of a pencil clipped to her apron. Touching it to the fabric changed the satin to a light blue color. "Better?"

Beatrix wished she knew what colors her escort liked. She had been shocked when the young man asked to take her to the upcoming dance and the girl wanted very much to look presentable. Of course her dress had to be affordable too. Unlike ojou-sama, her family didn't have money to spare on luxuries. The dress would cost her most of her savings and there were still shoes and more to purchase as well. Drachma sprouted wings and spiraled upward as the girl realized it would be more than the next issue of 'Gladiator Quarterly' she'd miss. "Maybe something darker."

A bell tinkled as the shop door opened, admitting two of her fellow cadets. Marie de Noir and Louise de Blanc formed one of the competing teams for last year's broom rally. In fact, they had finished right behind the winning team of Von Katz and du Chat.

Removing the pins from her mouth, the seamstress greeted her customers. "How may I be of service?"

"I'm here to pick up my dress," Marie said, brandishing a slip of paper.

The woman squinted at the form. "Ah yes. It's ready. Give me a moment to fetch it for you."

Marie smiled as the dressmaker disappeared into a backroom. "Ooh, very nice," the girl said as she walked around Beatrix. "Don't you think so Louise?"

"Yes, but that color makes her skin look pale," the other teen answered.

"Undoubtedly Mister Oishi will find it becoming," Marie remarked. "That and her 'slender' figure."

"I've never seem you dance before," Louise mentioned. "Do you know any steps?"

"That would make for a poor date if you could only sit and watch," Marie commented. "But perhaps Mister Oishi isn't interested in dancing."

Beatrix stared straight ahead as her classmates continued to circle like worgs on the hunt, refusing to give either the satisfaction of provoking a response.

"I mean did you see the neko-woman he was with during that interview?" Marie continued.

"She was rather attractive," the other girl commented. "And he certainly strikes me as a healthy male."

"Whoever dates him might have more than she can handle."

Stoically the dark-haired cadet endured the conversation until the seamstress returned, and then breathed a sigh of relief when the two girls departed. But the seed had been planted and took root in a fertile imagination.

--

"No way did I believe Emily would accept my invitation," Daffyd exclaimed as the pair walked down a corridor. "How did you do it?"

"Miss Sevensheep seems to be the type of person who doesn't like to be left out," Hiro answered. "So I asked her friend to the dance."

"What?" The boy did a double take as he suddenly stopped. "You asked Beatrix Monroe to the dance?"

Hiro nodded in response, prompting another question. "And she accepted?"

"What's so strange about that?" the young man asked in return.

"Well …" the boy started as eyes darted about. "She always follows Emily's lead."

"And Beatrix acts so cold and distant that people call her the 'ice princess'," Daffyd added.

Hiro tried to reconcile that image to the girl he met at Glad-Con. Beatrix had seemed anything but cold and distant while seated on his lap in the washroom stall. Under other circumstances he wouldn't mind …

'Knock it off,' he scolded himself. 'That kind of thinking got you in trouble the last time.'

Dropping his voice to a conspiratorial level, Daffyd continued. "A few people, not me you understand, have wondered if she even likes boys."

The assassin's eyes narrowed as he glared at the teen, causing Daffyd to quiver. "Mention to those people that I'd be most displeased if anyone repeats such a thing in my presence," Hiro said with a nasty smile that brought a gulp and a swift nod in response.

"Were you able to find any items on my shopping list?" Hiro asked.

Daffyd seemed relieved by the change of topics. "Yes but I had a difficult time translating a few," the boy answered. "What are you going to do with that stuff?"

"I'm going to add nitrogen to the glycerol using a fifty-fifty solution of sulfuric and nitric acids," he explained. "That will produce glyceryl trinitrate which has medicinal properties."

One of the other boy's ears twitched while considering that comment. "Isn't that substance rather, ah, unstable?"

"Certainly," Hiro replied. "That's why I need your lab to work in."

"And the cotton?"

"That's for making nitrocellulose," he answered.

"You do know that both of those are considered hazardous material?"

"I know," Hiro assured him. "But I need to check the properties of old world chemicals with their counterparts here. I only need small amounts of either to test. Besides, the two can be stabilized by combining them."

--

Megalo-Messembria, Mundus Magicus

Slavery. Such a short, brutal word. One that shouldn't even exists. That is did was a blot upon the whole world. Slavery was a disease without cure, a cancer that could only be gotten rid of by burning it away. Pacing back and forth across the narrow living room of her apartment, memories of her days as a slave rose from long dusty crypts and confronted Koyomi like a horde of hungry ghosts.

_Neither mother nor father nor siblings could the young cat-girl recall; not the slightest memory of family, only the market her master owned. Her master was a slaver dealing exclusively in females from the various Magic World races. Every month, buyers would flock to the auction and bid on those who caught their fancy. Every month, a parade of sad faces filed on and off the block, and Koyomi knew one day her face would be among them._

_How her master ever procured the dragon-girl was a mystery, but one morning a girl near Koyomi's own age, with a pair of horns sticking out from underneath blonde hair, appeared. Dragons, whether full or mixed blood, were notoriously difficult to control. The newcomer must have been as defiant as rumor painted for she had been trussed up and placed up to her neck in a black sack._

_Master prided himself on never once applying the lash to his merchandise. Other means existed to force obedience and left no marks, at least no physical ones. Throughout the day, as she went about her chores, Koyomi snuck glances at the new slave who sweltered under the hot sun. The little dragon-girl had to be suffering, but not one cry escaped those tightly pursed lips._

_That evening, Koyomi lay curled on a pallet at the end of her master's couch. When his snores grew regular, she silently slipped through the open doorway and down deserted corridors. Knowing full well the punishment for being caught, the cat-girl pushed down on the beam, lifting a leather bucket from the well. Trembling hands dipped the ladle and carried it to the dark shape kneeling in the moonlit yard._

"_Here," the girl whispered as she squatted down. "It's water."_

"_Please," Koyomi pleaded as mistrustful eyes regarded her. "You must drink."_

_The horned girl's head bent down and was followed by sounds of lapping water. Twice more, the cat-girl brought the ladle and was finally rewarded with a "Thank you."_

That night, Tamaki became her first and dearest friend. Koyomi had run a huge risk for the other girl's sake then, and tonight would be another. A knock caused her head to snap around. Slowly the teen crossed the room, heart firmly lodged in her throat, and opened the door.

"Good evening Councilor Ikoma," she greeted her guest. "Please come in."Ducking beneath the lintel, he entered the cramped apartment.

"Would you care to sit?" she asked, indicating a threadbare loveseat. "Perhaps something to drink?"

"Thank you," Ikoma replied as he settled his lanky frame onto the cushions. "But I'll pass on the drink."

The man's eyes fell upon the package he had brought over the previous evening, noticing the contents had been removed. "What shall we talk about Koyomi-chan?"

Looking him in the face, the cat-girl uttered the words she had practiced all afternoon. "What will it take to move Tamaki here?"

His face remained unresponsive so she continued. "Is this about getting me in your bed?" the girl asked, struggling to keep the tension she felt from her voice. "I'll do it if that's the price."

Ikoma grinned at her comment and then allowed himself a chuckle. "If this was about sex, we'd have finished before now," the mage answered. "More than your body, I want your obedience."

"You have that already," she pointed out.

"Because I hold your friend hostage," Ikoma responded. "I want your unquestioning compliance to my least command. Tamaki-chan goes free when I no longer need her to assure your cooperation my sweet. Not a moment before."

Nostrils flared at his words and her heart raced so hard, Koyomi was half-afraid it would burst. Dropping to her knees, the cat-girl meekly bowed in a pose of submission. The words were difficult to say, but for Tamaki's sake, she forced them out. "Then command me … master."

"Rise," he said and she dutifully got to her feet. With outstretched hand Ikoma beckoned her over and guided the girl to his lap. A hand stroked the side of her face and Koyomi smothered a shudder of revulsion as it continued down the front of her dress.

"I want you to wear this whenever we are together," the man said while drawing a small box from his pocket; inside where the collar and bell he had shown her before. Without pause it was fastened about her throat. The girl fought back hot tears of shame when the councilor leaned forward and breathed into her ear, "This is just the beginning my pet."

--

**A/N: Chapter heading is from the poem "How is Your Heart?" **

**The Mosin-Nagant was the standard rifle for Russian/Soviet forces until about 1960 and is still widely available in Eastern European countries.**

**Glycerol trinitrate is used to treat heart patients but is better known by the name nitroglycerin. Nitrocellulose is the scientific name for gun cotton. Both can be combined into gelignite, which, while it is a stable form, is also a powerful explosive (sort of a precursor to plastic explosives).**


	26. Chapter 26

**A/N: I have a deep, dark secret to admit. I like Gothic Romances. You know the kind; the hero or heroine is stuck in a decrepit, moldering house/castle, encounter centuries long, family curses, and must brave any number of things that go bump in the night. 'Fall of the House of Usher', 'The Picture of Dorian Gray', 'Carmilla' are all guilty pleasures. That admission out of the way, it was fun to be able play with it here. I hope you enjoy.**

**In reply to Servious' question in his last review, yes this story is AU as concerns Negi's mother. **

**My thanks to DragonKnightSevus for his help on this chapter. **

**Ken Akamatsu …, ah the heck with it. You guys already know. Sloan Maxwell is an OC belonging to Midnight Sleeper. Collet Farandole's uncle does not exist in the manga but was mentioned in Makuhari-Fan01's story 'Ala Alba in the World of Magic'. Mikami Reiko is an original character based on the character by the same name in 'Ghost Sweeper Mikami'.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words"**, **'thoughts'**, "spells", **_'reading'_**, **singing

**A Dark and Stormy Night**

_It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents, except at occasional intervals… – _**Edward Bulwer-Lytton**

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

Emily Sevensheep waited with crossed arms and an annoyed expression as Hiro sauntered towards her. His assigned guide and sitter had been in a sour mood this morning and the constant interruption by strangers wanting to speak with him wasn't making her company anymore pleasant. "Are you finished?" she asked in an irritated tone. "Or perhaps there's someone else who'd like you to autograph another magazine cover?"

"You don't want me to be rude to your classmates do you," the assassin replied. "Besides, it's not as if I'm enjoying all of the attention."

"You could have fooled me," the girl testily countered.

The two continued down the gravel walkway that wound through a garden. Bits of colored stone crunched under feet as the pair drew closer to a dark green hedge between three and four meters high.

"Why did you ask Beatrix to the dance?" his caretaker asked.

"Because I wanted to go and I like your friend's company," he responded. "Does it bother you?"

"Yes," Emily answered and then remained silent for a few paces. "My family is fairly well off, so money usually isn't an issue for me. That's not true for Beatrix."

"While the school provides most of what we students need, it doesn't cover extra-curricular activities," Emily explained. "I don't go to most of them because I don't want to constantly point out the differences in our circumstances."

"I had no idea," Hiro responded. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"Make sure she enjoys herself," the sheep-eared girl responded.

From the direction they came, a voice called out "Cadet Sevensheep!"

A dark-haired woman in what Hiro supposed was a uniform, marched up the path. Emily came to attention and replied, "Captain Hild!"

The officer halted a few paces from them. "Grandmistress Seras wishes to see our young guest immediately," the woman said. "Please follow me."

Though phrased as a request, Hiro could tell it was anything but. "Am I in some kind of trouble," he whispered to the girl.

"Probably," Emily whispered back.

A short while later, he was seated in the Grandmistress' office. Seras regarded the assassin from the far side of her desk. "I understand you've approached a student for access to a school laboratory," the woman said. "Why?"

"A lab would make completing my school assignments easier."

"Then why didn't you make your request through the administration?" she asked. "And why do you need to manufacture explosives?"

"I guess in my excitement over finding your have a lab here, I didn't consider that," Hiro answered. "I do apologize for my mistake. As for the other, you'll find them in my work assignments."

"You're no more a student that I am," Seras told him. "Are you Sasuki-san?"

"Who is Sasuki-san?"

In response, a blue folder slid across her desk. Inwardly, Hiro groaned as he read the names _'Cyrus MacDougall' _and _'Sloan Maxwell'_ off the cover.

"I don't have the time to play games," she remarked. "Not when the safety of my students is at risk. You may be Konoe-sama's envoy, but that protection extends only so far."

Waking in the hospital after falling from the roof, he found Mahora's headmaster waiting patiently at his bedside. Only a few minutes of conversation had convinced Hiro that no amount of bluffing was going to work with that old man; he had the same feeling about the Grandmistress.

"I don't have too much going for me in a one on one battle with a mage," the young man answered. "I need to use every advantage I can find."

"I could make explosives in a well-stocked kitchen, but a lab is preferable," he continued. "And blasting gelatin can be safely stored and transported."

"How much were you planning on making?"

"About enough to blow up a room this size," he estimated.

Seras considered his answers for a few minutes and then nodded her head as if reaching a decision. "I think we can come to an arrangement," the woman said. "I'll see that you have your lab time, but I want something in return."

"What would that be?"

"Professor Akashi's itinerary lists Granicus as your next stop," she told him. "I have a message I need delivered to man by the name of Dolnegus."

"What's the message?"

"You'll receive it before leaving Ariadne," Seras answered. "Do we have a deal?"

Having agreed to her terms, Hiro was dismissed. Unnoticed by the assassin, a purple-shelled beetle landed on the back of his shirt as he was departing. The office door clicked shut behind him and a smile slowly spread across the Grandmistress' face.

--

"Thank you for seeing me sir," Akashi said as he sat next to the portly figure at the pub table. "And a belated congratulations on your promotion Dean Farandole."

"About 15 years late but I'll accept it," the floppy-eared mage replied. "How are things with you Yuji-kun?"

Once, Akashi Yuji had studied under Professor Balthasar Farandole at Ariadne's famed Lightfoot Academy for the Study of Aero-Magic. His former instructor had been instrumental in merging Old World science and New World magic together, sparking a revolution in airship design. Designs implemented by the warring Empire and Confederation navies. Some said that the old mage stepped away from the application side of things as an act of penance; however, Akashi always thought the beagle-eared teacher just enjoyed broom riding that much more.

"Oh, teaching is hectic, but you know all about that," he replied as Farandole nodded in understanding. "And raising a young girl is a challenge."

"I respect you and my siblings for doing so," the lifelong bachelor remarked. "The thought of parenthood terrifies me more than any incoming freshman class ever has."

Conversation stopped as their waitress dropped off two drinks along with little plates of fish, pickles and olives. Dean Farandole picked up a large, pimento stuffed olive and popped it into his mouth. "Your daughter is about 15 now isn't she?" he asked after washing it down with a sip of sweet wine.

"Yes, Yuna is in her first year of high school."

"While Mahora is a fine school, I'm curious why she didn't enroll here as a mage-knight candidate?"

"After the war, her mother and I decided to settle in the Mundus Vetus," he answered. "We were waiting for the time to discuss magic with her when Rikku died. I never had time for that talk until after Yuna found out about it on her own."

"I certainly can't fault anyone for how they raise their children, but I think that's a shame," the dean remarked. "Rikku-kun was as fine of a rider as I've ever had the pleasure to teach; I'm sure her daughter would have excelled too."

"In many ways, Yuna is much like her mother," Professor Akashi said, thinking of the girl's exuberance. Remembering his daughter's actions when she thought he was secretly dating brought a sheepish grin. "But not like her at all in others."

"One of my nieces is like that too," the old professor remarked. "Collet has the talent to make it as a Valkyrie, but never thinks any further than a minute ahead."

"Is your niece blonde with black and white ears and wears glasses?"

"Yes."

"She was part of the group of cadets that met me when I arrived," he admitted. "I hadn't realized there was a relation."

"It is a small world Yuji-kun," Balthasar responded. "By the way, are you familiar with a girl by the name of Ayase?"

"One of my daughter's classmates is named Ayase Yue."

"It seems both girls met during last year's Peace Festival and became pen pals," the dean told him. "Collet wants to visit Mahora next month for some sort of celebration."

"That would be the school's summer festival," the professor explained.

"As Collet's guardian, she needs my permission to go and I've been reluctant to grant it," his former instructor said. "However, I might relent if somebody was there I could trust to look after her."

"I don't know how long I'll be on my, er, vacation," he commented. "But I'm sure I can help find a responsible person."

"I would appreciate that," the beastman replied. "I believe this may be the only chance to see the Mundus Vetus she'll ever have."

"Are the separatists so close to shutting down the gates?"

"Closer than I'd like," the dean answered. "Maybe I'm being an old fool, but the last time I felt this way was 22 years ago."

Farandole let the words sink in as he picked up the glass. "And we both recall what happened then," he said before draining the remaining wine in a single gulp.

**--**

**Mahora, Japan**

Sayo glared across the intervening space at a pair of seemingly friendly eyes. She knew that the appearance was deceptive, intended to lull people into a false sense of security. Her heart, had she one, would be beating wildly as the little doll faced off with her implacable foe. "Ha! You think to catch me off guard again!" the platinum-haired doll shouted. "That ruse won't work again."

"Have at thee villain," she cried and thrust her weapon forward. Long, purple feathers brushed against Chachazero's face as the ghost mercilessly tickled her opponent with the quill. "Surrender I tell thee! Surrender!"

Slowly the enemy doll folded over until its forehead nearly touched the floor. "The enemy is vanquished," Sayo pronounced and then inclined her head as a mark of respect. "You were a worthy foe."

A rattling knob broke the mood as the door swung open, causing the possessed doll to jump back in surprise. Her roommate Yue strode in, carrying a stack of books as always. Quicky, Sayo hid the quill behind her back and stood innocently as purple feathers waved above the doll's head. "Hello Yue-san."

"Hello," Yue greeted in return and then stared down at her. "Is that my quill?"

Sayo twisted her head about and discovered her body did a less than adequate job of concealment. "Yes it is," she answered, bringing the quill forward and holding it up with both hands. "Here you go."

Shaking her head, Yue plucked the quill from her hands and continued on to her desk, setting it and the books down. All of the books had English titles and Sayo could only make out one, 'Sonnets from the Portuguese'.

"Kazumi-san asked me to give you a message," Yue told her. "She said there's a big surprise for you downstairs in the rec room."

A delighted squeal echoed off the walls and was followed by an equally loud "Umpf!" Picking herself off the floor, the ghost glared at the grinning doll by her feet. Red eyes blazed like fiery coals but Chachazero lay there unscathed by the furious gaze. 'Just you wait till next time,' the specter promised as she disappeared through the wall.

--

Class 1B president, Mikami Reiko, walked into the high school dormitory and was nearly run over by a trio of students on their way out. Recognizing the girls as members of class 1A launched an already bad mood into stratospheric levels. "Why don't you watch where you're going!" she angrily snapped.

"Sorry," Sakurako apologized as the three stepped aside.

Mahora had its share of the odd, eccentric and downright weird, but class 1A topped them all. It was a reputation earned since the very first year of elementary school. 'Slackers and troublemakers all,' Mikami grumbled silently.

Upon entering middle school, Takahata-sensei was assigned as their homeroom teacher, in hopes he could provide that much needed discipline. However, their antics grew even more outrageous. Then that ten year old cupcake was made their teacher. 'What a mistake. Professor Springfield couldn't even look after himself let alone that rambunctious lot,' she fumed. 'Seriously. What were they thinking?'

Yet even she had to admit the youngster knew his subject. How he managed to pull that class out of the basement and keep them near the top was a mystery that approached the miraculous. 'If the kid can do it again, he should be a candidate for sainthood.'

Climbing halfway to her floor, the class leader heard a door slam up ahead, followed by feet racing down the steps. "No running in the stairwell!" she shouted. Though the pace slowed to a normal walk, the girl was in no mood to put up with inconsiderate rule breakers. The deserved chewing out died an ignoble death as nobody came into view; only the echo of footsteps passed by.

'Maybe there is something to the dorms being haunted,' Mikami thought as the sounds receded. 'I'd better talk to the Father about this.'

Safe in her room, the girl decided to change out of her uniform. Opening the closet revealed a row of purple, her favorite color, dresses. After changing, she had started brushing her long, red hair when a knock interrupted. One of her classmates stood in the hall.

"Did you get the key to the rec room, class rep?" the other girl asked. "Our group needs to practice for the upcoming festival."

"No, I forgot Kitomi-san," she answered. "I'll go get it now."

Of course the key had been checked out, by another 1A student. As the red-haired student approached the open door, she heard voices from inside the recreation room.

"It will take practice, but you seem to be controlling the unit fine," Hakase said.

"Paru-san's golem was easier," a flat, almost mechanical voice replied.

"Don't fret Sayo," Asakura responded. "You'll get the hang of it."

'What are the mad scientist and paparazzi up to?' Mikami wondered. 'Something unauthorized no doubt. And who is Sayo?'

Quickly she moved to surprise them and was ready to pounce when the flat voice asked, "What does this do?"

"No!" Hakase shouted. "That's the …"

A high-pitched hum came from the room as the class rep leapt into the doorway. A girl who resembled Karakuri-san stood in the center of the room while Asakura-san stood on one side, groping the other girl's left breast.

"Laser," the pig-tailed scientist finished.

"What's going on here?" a furious Mikami demanded. Noticing a burning smell, the girl looked to the right and found a long, brown line seared into the wall.

As she numbly stared at the damage, Asakura cryptically remarked, "Maybe you should leave off the laser."

--

Evangeline poured freshly brewed tea into four cups as the three cheerleaders sat before her. Her opinion of the trio was the same she held of most of their classmates, total useless. Yue, Nodoka and Haruna had surprised the vampire with their achievements, so it was possible the giggling girls before could do the same; however, the library club girls were intelligent, so she wasn't going to hold her breath.

Still disguised as a thirty-somethingish teacher, the undead mage glanced down her nose at the gaggle of teens, quieting them in an instant. "Kugimiya-san has only now realized what the decision to stay at Mahora entails," she told them. "She appreciates the danger you all face and has come to me to learn magic."

All three gazed back at her varying degrees of interest. "Being in a group can help accelerate learning," Evangeline continued to explain. "So I ask you Kakazaki-san, Shiina-san, do you wish to learn magic as well?"

"Will we be able to cast spells like Negi-kun?" Sakurako asked.

"I doubt you will reach Ayase-san's level let alone Professor Springfield's," she answered. "But it is possible for you to cast spells. Take your classmate Sasaki-san for example."

"Makie-san can cast spells?" Misa looked aghast at the thought.

"She has only mastered a few, simple ones," Evangeline explained. "But she can do it."

"But it seems to be taking such a long time for me," Madoka pointed out as her friends sipped at their tea.

"You've only tried twice, for less than an hour each time," the mage pointed out. "Sasaki-san worked constantly for several weeks to be able to cast her first spell."

'Besides, she wanted too,' the vampire thought to herself.

"Outside of casting spells," Evangeline continued, "you might all possess a natural talent."

"While in Wales, Shiina-san was able to lead you to the transfer portal. This despite the fact that the portal was enchanted to prevent mundane people from stumbling upon it."

Watching as Madoka lifted the cup to her lips, she pointed at her next. "Kugimiya-san has demonstrated a talent to increase the amount of energy powering a spell. I don't doubt that Kakizaki-san has an undiscovered ability too."

"But what if I don't?" Misa asked. "What if I'm not like them? What if I'm just a normal girl?"

"You were able to use a weapon during last year's Mage vs. Mars game were you not?" the vampire asked. "That shows you can use a magical item to fight, even if you can't incant a spell. More than magic, I am offering to teach you three how to use all of your skills to keep you and your friends alive."

'That got their attention,' Evangeline thought as she noted their stunned expressions.

"How will you do that?" Madoka asked as Sakurako yawned loudly.

"Stop that," Misa said as the girl lifted a hand to cover her own yawn. "You're making me do it too."

One by one, her new students crumpled to the tatami mats, victims of a sleeping draught. Placing her cup down, Evangeline pulled out a hook and string, beginning the endless repetition of twist, pull, twist, pull.

--

Misa closed her eyes but for a moment, or so the girl would have sworn; however, when they opened she was standing in a chamber of rough hewn stone. Iron sconces were set at regular intervals in the walls, each holding a smoldering torch. Dry air, heavy with dust, pressed in upon her as the teen's nose began to tickle in preparation for a sneeze. Before her, a stairway of stone steps spiraled upwards.

The promised sneeze rocked the cheerleader on her heels and echoed off of sooty walls and ceiling. Reaching into her pocket for a tissue, Misa was surprised to discover her skirt and blouse had been replaced by a dark blue gown. Puffed out sleeves covered the girl's shoulders, leaving collar and arms bare. "Why am I dressed up for the prom?" she muttered.

"Madoka? Sakurako?" the girl called out. "Is anybody there?"

Turning about, Misa gasped in surprise at a figure seated on a carved chair. Wrapped in dingy, grey rags, the human-shaped form reminded her of a mummy. A thick layer of dust coated the corpse and several cobwebs clung to its bandages. Across the mummy's lap laid a length of wood topped by a five pointed star. A brilliant glow surrounded the wand as Misa recalled the toy her classmate Yuna used to play with. Bits of pulverized rock crunched under her foot as she stepped forward.

Anyone who's played video games knew that when in dungeons like this, players had to collect whatever treasure was lying about in order to win. With unusual caution, Misa edged closer to the wand and its guardian. Holding her breath, the girl seized the wand and snatched it to her chest. Taking a quick step back, she gazed at the mummy, who showed no inclination to grab for her, and softly exhaled.

Cobwebs across the seated figure's face stirred in response to her breath. Misa looked on terrified as the webs continued their swaying while the creature rose. The girl backed away as one of the monster's hands reached out while the other remained tucked against its chest. Spinning around, she bolted for the stairs, wand still tightly clenched in her fist. Up and up the girl climbed as the fearful shuffling followed. At the end of the stairs was a door. Thankfully, it was unlocked and she rushed into the room beyond, slamming the door shut behind her. A wooden beam leaned against a wall and the high school student slid it across metal arms anchored in stone.

Sweat ran down her face and breaths came in ragged gulps as Misa scanned the room. It was circular, about twenty paces across, illuminated only by the wand's light. She appeared to have entered on the ground floor of a tower. Wooden stairs hugged the wall and another door was visible at the chamber's far side. In imitation of a gothic novel, that door groaned and swung inward. A scream of fright turned into a joyful welcome as she cried out, "Sakurako!"

--

Sakurako stared up as clouds passed in front of a sickly, yellow moon. "Where is everyone?" the cheerleader wondered as her gaze searched for signs of her friends. Had she wandered into the garden? And why was it night time?

Vague, white shapes were visible in the muted light. Beyond them lay a building whose outline was too large to be the tea pavilion. Thinking she was near one of the school buildings, Sakurako took a step only to trip. Hands reached out to keep from hitting the ground, but they were swallowed by shadows as she tumbled into a pit.

Stunned, the girl laid face down, smelling freshly turned earth. The hole was rectangular, about one and a half meters deep. Getting to her knees, Sakurako found her clothes had been replaced by a fancy gown, green in color and smudged with dirt. A shovel lay at the edge of the pit and she silently fumed over gardeners who couldn't put their tools away. From off to the right came a sound remindful of stone grinding against stone.

Climbing out of the hole, Sakurako grabbed the shovel and brandished it before her as a shape loomed out of the darkness. Whatever it was had legs and arms, but two, ram-like horns rose from its forehead and twisted to either side while a pair of bat-like wings spread out from the creature's back. "Don't come a step closer," the girl threatened. "I swear I'll hit you."

Swinging with all of her strength, the blade of the shovel clanged as it smashed into the figure. The juggernaut seemed unaffected as its hands closed upon the shovel and tore it from her grasp. 'Oh, crap!' the orange-haired girl thought as she backed away. 'Now what?'

An open, burlap sack brushed against her leg. Not knowing what else to do, she scooped up some of its contents and flung them in the creature's face. As tiny, white pellets bounced off, her pursuer froze in its tracks. A cracking sound filled the air just before creature's jaw crashed to the ground. A horn fell next, followed by a chunk of its left shoulder. Within the space of a few heartbeats, the monster had crumbled away.

Sakurako heard more of the scrapping so she grabbed two handfuls of the unknown pellets and ran. Those white shapes became tombstones that the girl wove in between as she raced towards the structure. It was a large, rambling, wooden frame house that resembled photos of Victorian homes, and even had a tower. Pouring the pellets into her skirt, the cheerleader opened the tower door and ducked inside.

"Sakurako!"

She turned and saw her friend Misa against a distant door. Her fellow cheerleader was dressed in similar clothing. "What's going on?" the other girl asked.

"No time," she replied. "Help me lock the door."

Comparing notes, the two girls decided to try the stairs when their missing friend shouted, "Misa! Sakurako!"

--

"Stop that," Misa said as the team captain's hand covered her own yawn. "You're making me do it too."

In the time it took to blink, Madoka had been transported from the pavilion to a dimly lit room. A row of floor to ceiling windows lined one wall. Their drapes had been drawn back, letting in the night. On the opposite wall was a fireplace with three logs blazing in it; their inviting light held the darkness at bay. Above the fire's cheerful crackle, the girl heard creaking sounds as the house settled about her.

Gazing down at herself, the would-be wizard was astonished to find her shirt and Capri slacks had been replaced by a floor-length gown of red satin. A pair of matching gloves covered her arms up past the elbows.

"Misa?" the bewildered girl called out. "Sakurako? Ishikawa-sensei? Anyone?"

Fabric rustled and floorboards softly squeaked as she moved towards the fireplace. Dark gaps, like mouths yawning open, were evenly spaced along that wall. Upon closer inspection, they turned out to be shelves of books. Leather bound spines with gilded letters proclaiming unpronounceable titles stared back at her from their places. Impulsively, Madoka pulled a volume out for closer inspection. On the cover was a five pointed star enclosed by a circle and below it were the words 'Book of Charms and Conjurations.'

Doors at the far end of the library flung open and a woman entered through them. The stranger wore an evening gown too, but hers was fashioned of black velvet. Long locks of silver-grey hair framed a face as smooth and white as freshly poured cream. Two eyes, black as lumps of coal, regarded her.

"Who are you?" Madoka eagerly asked. "Is this your house?"

The woman smiled at her but said nothing while advancing into the room. Despite the fire at her back, a shiver ran down Madoka's spine. "I have no idea how I got here," the teen tried to explain as her hand gripped the book tighter. Unconsciously, she took a step back at the other's approach. "I … I'm sorry for intruding."

As unease seized her, the girl noticed the stranger's chest didn't move while hers rapidly swelled and contracted with every breath. Another backward step put her in front of the fireplace. "Stay … stay back you," her quavering voice warned. Eyes goggled as the pale-skinned woman's smile widened to reveal a pair of fangs. The vampire leapt forward and instinctively she snatched a candlestick from the mantel and hurled it into the creature's face.

Letting lose a scream of agony, the monster clawed at the silver stick while Madoka ran past. A smell of scorched flesh assailed her nose, but the girl paid it no attention as she rushed out of the room. Feet pounded through the hallway, racing towards stairs at the far end. A screech came from behind as the creature pursued. Hurrying down the steps, three at a time, the teen reached a landing with a door. Quickly she jerked it open and stepped into another room. Luck seemed with her as the door was equipped with crossbar that the girl slammed into place. A shriek split the air as the creature battered the wooden barrier.

Madoka stood upon a catwalk just beneath the roof of a tower. The rails were faintly illuminated by a light from below. As rapidly as the girl dared, she glanced over the edge and saw her two friends. "Misa! Sakurako!"

"We need to get out of here," Misa shouted back.

"Not this way," Madoka said as her feet clattered down the steps. "One of Dracula's brides is chasing me."

"I have Imhotep, or somebody," Misa replied as a mummified fist pounded on her door.

Another blow rattled the door Sakurako had entered through. "Can't escape here either," the orange-haired teen responded. "What will we do?"

"Ishikawa-sensei told us this was a test, right?" Madoka asked her friends who nodded their heads in agreement. "We should have everything we need then. I found a spell book in the library."

"I have a wand," Misa offered. "What have you got?"

Sakurako's face wore a confused expression. "I have a lap full of … rock salt."

"Geez, and I though quadratic equations were complicated," the dark-haired girl quipped as she flipped through several pages. "Here! The book says salt can provide temporary protection from enchanted beings."

A stone fist punched through the door leading outside as Madoka continued to read. "Form an unbroken line of salt around the caster to create a barrier."

"It's not very big," Misa observed after they had finished pouring the salt into a circle.

Sakurako quickly defended herself. "I can only carry so much when running through a graveyard."

With a groan, the bar securing the crypt door snapped. "Found a cheat code yet?" Misa asked as the linen-wrapped monster shambled into the tower.

Granite hands ripped the broken door from its hinges, allowing a stone gargoyle entrance. "Anytime now would be good," Sakurako muttered.

"Alright!" she triumphantly cried. "A spell to vanquish your enemies."

"Hold your wand up in sight of your enemies," Madoka read. "And say 'With my own power I banish thee, fell spirits depart from me now'."

Misa thrust the glowing wand into the air, prompting Sakurako to ask if they should wait for the third monster to appear. Obligingly, a snarl from above answered. The once beautiful face, marred by a stripe of seared flesh, was contorted by hatred.

"With my own power I banish thee, fell spirits depart from me now" the team captain chanted and then glanced about to see the effect. "Oh great! Any footnotes?"

Standing back to back to back, the trio fearfully watched as the monsters gathered around, prowling just outside of the protective circle. "Maybe this is like a magical girl anime," Sakurako suggested. "You know, a 'let our powers combine' sort of thing."

"What? And summon a superhero?" Misa asked, her voice colored by fear-wrought sarcasm. "Maybe we could get a silver crystal and tiara while we're at it."

"She may be on to something," Madoka interjected. "Remember back on the class trip when we all gathered around Markham-sensei? Could be we need to do this together."

"Like a cheer," the orange-haired girl added.

A long, red tongue snaked out of the vampire's mouth. Misa shuddered at the memory of her recent encounter with the succubus. "I'll try anything."

Facing one another, each girl grasped the wand hoisted above their heads. "On three," their squad leader instructed. "One, two, three …"

"With my own power I banish thee, fell spirits depart from me now" they chanted in unison.

Nothing happened to the monsters, but Madoka felt an unmistakable pressure build. "Again!" she yelled.

A second incantation increased the force pressing down to suffocating levels. Panting for breath, they repeated the spell a third time. The intensity grew, threatening to crush them, and then exploded outward in a wave of sparkling lights. Little motes flashed and adhered to the creatures, encasing each in a glowing sheath. As she watched the monsters dissolve bit by bit, Madoka recalled health class discussions of how white blood cells attacked and destroyed germs.

Apparently safe, the girl sank to her knees, shut her eye and slowly exhaled. When she opened her eyes again, the student found herself back in the pavilion, sitting seiza before Ishikawa-sensei.

"Welcome back," the magic teacher said. "You three should rest now. Level two will be even tougher."

"Uh, before we do that," Misa replied, "there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

--

Negi's friend and co-worker, Takahata-san, had stopped by the high school that afternoon and invited Phillip out that evening. To the American's surprise, Professor Gandolfini offered to fill in for him at the dormitory. As the two men walked through the downtown, he had a feeling that there was more to this than a simple night out.

A line of mostly young men waited outside of a club called the Duke Street Café. As the teachers approached, a man in his mid-twenties waved them over. Takahata made a quick introduction. "Seruhiko-kun also teaches at the girl's middle school."

"A pleasure to meet you Markham-san," the younger man said. "I've already made arrangements so why don't we go in and enjoy?"

Walking past the cue, Phillip noticed a few annoyed glares from potential customers, but nothing further. Smoke stung his eyes as he entered the club's dimly lit interior. A buzz of conversation was all but buried by music booming from multiple speakers.

So wild so free so far from me, you're all I want, my fantasy.

Seruhiko led them past the bar to a table with a view of a stage. On the raised platform, a young woman dressed in a two-piece swimsuit shimmied to the audience's approval.

Oh, look what you've done to this rock 'n' roll clown. Oh oh, look what you've done.

Almost instantly, another woman appeared to take their order. "What do you gentlemen recommend?" he asked.

"The Asahi Super Dry beer is popular," Seruhiko answered, "as well as the Sapporo and Kirin lagers."

"Do you carry Taisetsu Ji Biru?" Takahata asked their waitress who responded with an emphatic "Yes."

"The Ji Biru are what you would call microbrews Markham-san," the art teacher told him. "Taisetsu is one of the better known ones."

As the music faded, patrons threw money on the stage for the dancer to pick up. "What do you think of this place Markham-san?" the younger teacher asked.

"They have a really nice sound system," he remarked. "And I can't complain about their choice of music. So what's up?"

"Let's wait a little bit," Takahata said as their drinks arrived.

A few more dancers had entertained the crowd in the time it took Phillip to get halfway through his beer. It was a convivial atmosphere as each teacher shared his classroom experiences. "So what happened next?" Seruhiko asked.

"Well the wind was whipping my tie around, so I grabbed a classroom stapler and punched it here and here," Phillip answered, indicating his chest and stomach. "Of course, I didn't feel a thing through the body cast."

The others laughed as he finished, "I didn't have any problems with those kids for the rest of the year."

Each dancer was introduced by the club's DJ. Phillip didn't understand all of what the announcer said; but as the next song started, he heard a familiar name. "Chachamaru."

Beer exploded from both mouth and nose as his student, clothed in a white skirt and top, mounted the platform. Seruhiko pounded on his back while Takahata held out a napkin. Chachamaru glided to the orchestra backed band, her skirt twirling as she moved with a grace that made the other girls seem clumsy in comparison. As Phillip dabbed his face, the music softened with a simple guitar backing the singer.

It's early morning, the sun comes out. Last night was shaking and pretty loud.

Crowd noises swiftly merged into the background as the robotic dancer grabbed hold of a metal pole and effortlessly spun about, giving everyone an eyeful of molded, plastic thighs.

My cat is purring and scratches my skin. So what is wrong with another sin?

Hips rolled in time with the music and Phillip felt the trickle of sweat down the back of his neck. The world took on a surrealistic tinge, almost as if the man watched a commercial for the new Exotic Dancer Fashion Doll. 'Coming soon to a toy store near you,' a stray thought flashed.

Guitars, backed by a score of violins, crunched out a thunderous riff while red and blue spotlights flooded the stage.

Here I am, rocked you like a hurricane. Skirt and top spun away from the girl, revealing a skimpy bikini. Here I am, rocked you like a hurricane.

Like spontaneous combustion, an ovation erupted as one leg scissored the pole and the green-haired dancer began to slide up and down.

My body is burning, it starts to shout. Desire is coming, it breaks out loud.

Sensory overload threatened as the teacher's heart raced with the tempo. It was with an effort he remembered to breath. By the time the song had ended, Phillip felt as if he had completed a marathon.

Money rained down on the stage. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked as Seruhiko prepared to toss out a 500 yen coin.

"Well … I mean … um sorry," the younger teacher stammered. "I got carried away."

As the gynoid bent down to retrieve her tips, Takahata leaned in. "I apologize for ambushing you," his fellow teacher said. "But as Chachamaru-kun's homeroom teacher, we thought you should see this for yourself."

--

"All I want to do is speak with her."

Phillip stood outside the door to the dressing rooms, arguing with a grey-haired woman who blocked his way.

"No! No! No!" the woman replied in her broken English. "You sit back down."

"No paybar," she scolded. "You leave girl alone."

"Look, I don't want to buy her," the man tried to explain. "I'm her sensei."

Mama-san shouted to someone and the American suddenly felt a presence loom ominously behind him. Spinning about, he was confronted by the establishment's bouncer. The other man was huge and looked as solid as a brick wall. Phillip didn't need to read minds to tell what would happen next.

Quickly, the teacher was hustled out of a back door and tossed into the alley. Scrapped knees and elbows complained as he sat up. Both men turned to look as the back door jerked open and the green-haired robot stepped out. A silk robe had been hastily thrown over Chachamaru's shoulders and hung open in the front, exposing her still swimsuit clad figure.

"Sensei?" his student said and started forward, only to be blocked by the bouncer.

He couldn't follow all of their exchange, but it seemed obvious that the other man was telling her to go back inside. The girl's hand reached out and grabbed a fist full of the bouncer's shirt. Feet dangled as she effortlessly hoisted the man into the air and set him down behind her. "What happened Markham-sensei?" she asked while bending over him.

Phillip took the proffered hand while trying not to stare. "There was a misunderstanding Miss Karakuri. I wanted to see you after your performance and ran into the language barrier."

Chachamaru said something to the bouncer, who reluctantly went back inside the club. "Did you like my dancing sensei?"

"It was very … entertaining," he cautiously replied. "I wish you had told me your job was dancing in a club."

"It was listed on my application," the robot informed him.

"Still, I'm a little bothered by it," Phillip remarked. "I'm not sure this presents the right image for the school."

"Do you want to withdraw your permission?"

Concerned about her exposure to the evening air, he pulled the front of the robe together. "Would that cause a hardship?"

"No hardship sensei, but I don't have any other means to purchase non-essentials such as casual clothing or being able to play at the video arcade."

When asked what she was being paid, the gynoid answered, "I've earned over 19 thousand yen in tips so far. Of course, I have my stage fee and locker rental due, and payments to the house staff …"

"You mean you don't get to keep all of the tips?"

"No, there are a number of fees required of the dancers," Chachamaru replied. "All together, they amount to nearly four thousand per night."

"What a racket," Phillip said as he pulled out his cell phone and began to punch the numbers. "Hello, Markham here. Sorry to disturb you Minamoto-san but I need some information."

--

**A/N: The chapter heading and title come from the novel 'Paul Clifford'. And I always thought Charles Shultz made that line up. Who knew?**

**Lines used at the club scene are from the songs 'Photograph' by Def Leopard and 'Rock You Like a Hurricane' by the Scorpions.**


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: Well, this chapter went quicker than I thought. This chapter contains an utterly gratuitous pillow fight that serves no purpose other than I enjoyed writing it.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Cycilia Sevensheep appears with Makuhari-Fan01's permission. Other OCs belong to me. Aisaka Haru is the name I've given to Sayo's father.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**

**The Tolling of the Bell**

_Do not ask for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee _**– Ernest Hemingway**

--

Ariadne, Mundus Magicus

A dolphin-shaped limousine had picked them up at the school and swiftly deposited them on the rooftop landing pad of a massive tower. Emily Sevensheep, proudly dressed in her cadet's uniform and cape, led the way down the transport's ramp. She was followed by her friend Beatrix and then the beagle-eared Collet. Hiro stepped down the ramp next with the catalyst mage student Daffyd nearly stepping on the assassin's heels. Professor Akashi brought up the rear.

Emily had extended her mother's invitation to dinner that morning, shortly after Hiro had called the woman. As a news reporter, the young man figured she could help dig up information on this Dolnegus-san he was supposed to meet in Granicus. During their conversation, the assassin had casually mentioned the school dance and how Emily accepted Daffyd's offer to escort her. If giving her mother's invitation to him was a strain, he could only imagine what inviting her unabashed admirer was like. Daffyd, of course, was floating somewhere above the clouds at the moment. And no doubt, the story would be known to the entire student body by evening's end.

A grey-haired gentleman waited by the building's entry and bowed in greeting. "Good evening ojou-sama."

"Good evening Winston," Emily cheerfully replied. "How are you doing?"

"Very well, thank you," the gentleman answered. "Your mother is waiting inside."

A short walk brought the group under the tower's immense dome. Daffyd gaped, eyes darting this way and that about the rotunda. "Wow Emi! You never said your mom lives in the Ala Rubra Tower!"

"Stop calling me Emi!" the girl indignantly replied. "She only moved here after our home was burglarized."

"But this is the high rent district," the boy said to her mounting disgust. Before she could reply, Daffyd pointed to the ceiling and cried, "Would you look at that!"

Hiro glanced up and found a huge mural had been painted across the entire dome. Five faces looked down. Between each portrait were scenes of battles and other events the assassin was sure pertained to some, epic adventure. One scene In particular grabbed his attention. An armada of battleships surrounded a sphere of light that resembled a miniature star.

"The Legend of the Ala Rubra," Collet said in an awestruck tone. "I've never seen it before."

"Ala Rubra?" he whispered.

"Heroes of the last war," the class dunce replied. "Rakan, Imma, Kozimos, Konoe and Springfield."

Rakan. He had heard of the former gladiator at the convention in Megalo-Messembria, and Hiro was way too familiar with the name Konoe. Gazing at Nagi Springfield's grinning visage, the assassin contrasted him to the boy teacher from Nekane's photo album. He couldn't imagine two faces so far apart for all their physical similarities. "Looks like an arrogant idiot."

His muttered pronouncement drew a chuckle from the professor. "Springfield-san was arrogant enough for any twelve people," Akashi wryly admitted. "But then, no other twelve could match his accomplishments."

"Whatever happened to him?" Hiro asked.

"Ten years after the war's end, a former ally turned against him," the professor answered as amusement slid from the man's face. "The story goes that they killed each other in battle."

Emily's mother met them in the foyer. Unlike the business attire she had worn prior, the woman was dressed in a gown of purple silk that shimmered as she moved. Her long hair hung loose this evening, as Cycilia seemed more Grecian goddess than news reporter. Overall, Hiro found the effect stunning. And judging from the professor's expression, Akashi-sensei was in complete agreement.

After a round of hugs and greetings, they followed their hostess to the dining room. Dozens of picture frames hung in the connecting passage. While many were of the Sevensheep mother and daughter, easily a quarter featured Nagi Springfield. News clippings, magazine covers, glossy photographs and posters of the larger than life hero stared back every few steps.

"You have a few pictures of Springfield-san I see."

"Yes, I'm a shameless fan," the reporter admitted. "And what's sad is that most of my collection went into storage."

"Your daughter mentioned something about a burglary," Akashi remarked.

"A group of thieves broke in my family's house last year," Cycilia replied. "I was on the air so much then, they must have thought no one would be home. Lucky for me they were incompetent and raised enough of a ruckus to alert the authorities. My editor suggested that a woman living by herself presented too tempting a target."

"Is it true that you were a member of the Springfield Fan Club?" Daffyd asked.

"Were and are," their hostess answered. "Charter number 78 of the Ariadne Chapter."

"Ah ha!" Heads turned as Collet glared at Emily with an expression much like a victor about to deliver the finishing stroke. "That was your mother's card!" the floppy eared girl gleefully cried.

"Is not," the accused swiftly countered.

"She's right Collet," Cycilia quickly stepped in. "Charter members were allowed to reserve a spot for one relative. My number is identified with a 'c' for charter, but hers is the regular number 78."

Hiro caught the smugly satisfied look of Emily's face and could well imagine the girl sticking a tongue out at her rival fan.

Dinner was an interesting affair. They settled onto cushion while servants brought in dishes but no silverware or chopsticks. Instead, each person had a small plate of bread cut into wedges. The bread was used to dip or scoop with. Additionally, meat and vegetables were grilled on skewers that one picked up by hand.

Conversation went fairly well, though it seemed Daffyd was being grilled by his date's mother as thoroughly as the meal had been. "I heard your father was on the city's war council," the teen said in desperation.

"Yes, but he was only one of many."

"My father told me that he challenged Olaf Magnusson to a duel."

"Is that old story still be nosed about?" Cycilia laughed. "I'm afraid the truth is a little disappointing."

"Ala Rubra had come to Ariadne to enlist the city's help for their final assault on Total World," the reporter explained. "The council was equally divided among those wishing to throw their lot in with the Crimson Wing and those wanting to maintain our 'traditional' neutrality. My father and Magnusson were very vocal in supporting their respective sides."

"In jest, my father entered a motion that he and Olaf duel to decide the issue," she continued. "Some people took his joke too seriously."

"Olaf Magnusson," Hiro repeated. "Any relation to the school's fencing master?"

"Father and son," Cycilia answered. "Arn and his father argued about how Ariadne should respond too; however Olaf never changed his position, even when it became apparent his side had lost."

For a moment or two, the party ate in silence and then Collet piped up with "I've heard such wonderful stories about Mahora."

"My friend there wrote me about all the crazy things that went on during the last summer festival," the beastgirl continued. "Were you there Oishi-san?"

"No, I arrived a month after that," Hiro answered.

"What is it like?" Beatrix asked.

"Oh, Mahora is like any other city," he responded. "Yet it's different from any other place I've been too."

Groping for words to describe his impressions proved futile. "Maybe you should ask Akashi-sensei," he finally said. "I spent most of the term recovering from a bad fall."

At evening's end, the limousine deposited them back at the school. Hiro and the professor bid the students good night and started back to their guest cottage. Breath turned into white puffs as winter began to claim even this coastal city. Stars stood out sharply against the black sky; twinkling like a swarm of fireflies.

"The stars are quite beautiful aren't they?" Akashi said, drawing the young man's gaze upwards.

"You're right," he replied. "I don't see too many from Tokyo."

"But you can see nearly as many from Mahora," the professor remarked, "especially during the Tanabata celebration."

"Tanabata professor?"

"You said tonight that you arrived at Mahora a month after the summer festival," he was reminded. "You must have been around for Tanabata."

"Yeah, I guess so," Hiro answered as he pulled his thin coat closer against the cold.

"A friend of mine, Kataragi-san, wasn't able to make our weekly get-togethers for several months," his companion mentioned. "He said he was busy watching a dangerous criminal."

'So that's what this is about,' the assassin thought as he walked quietly along.

"My daughter Yuna told me about a hired killer who was going to murder one of her classmates," the older man continued, "and how she knocked him off the roof."

"Professor …"

Akashi stopped and whirled on him. "Yuna had trouble sleeping for months afterwards," the agent said as tiny flames of anger flickered in the man's eyes. "My daughter kept having nightmares about turning into a monster and killing people."

Jabbing a finger in Hiro's direction, the enraged father demanded, "Just who in hell are you?"

"I'm a professional," he answered. "I've been hired to do a job and I'm doing it to the best of my abilities."

"I didn't ask to come on this picnic sensei," Hiro continued. "Your headmaster ordered me to be here. If you want any more answers, ask him."

In a flash the professor was before him, the mage's hand moving like a blur as it connected to the assassin's chin. Twisting with the blow, Hiro landed hard on the pavement. Gently, his jaw moved from side to side, enough to confirm it wasn't broken. Yet.

"I'm a professional too." Heels clicked loudly on cement as Akashi walked away. "Those are for the tears my little girl cried because of you."

--

Duke Street Café Mahora, Japan

Kanemaru Shinji never had a piggy bank while growing up. Instead, he put any money that came his way into a big, glass jar that was kept on the top shelf of the bedroom closet. A lot of effort went into filling that jar, delivering papers, washing dishes, loading trucks and any number of other jobs over the years.

His father had been a club manager but never owned one. The man often worked 16 to 18 hours a day for bosses who didn't care beyond the profit margin. His old man died of a stroke at 40, leaving his family only well-worn wishes that did nothing to pay off debts. It was a lesson not lost on the youngster who had to leave high school to support himself.

When the opportunity to buy the club came his way, that glass jar didn't contain near the amount needed. Banks didn't lend to small businesses so that left only one choice, the sarakin. His debts left him no option but to succeed; anything less would mean selling body parts to pay the loan sharks off.

Things had gone well this week with big crowds lining up to get in. Shinji had rolled the dice and come up eleven. That was until this morning when one of the most gorgeous hunks of female flesh he'd ever seen strolled into the club, tailed by a short guy toting a huge briefcase.

"I'm Minamoto Shizuna," she had said. "I'm with the Mahora School Administration."

"What can I do for you Minamoto-san?" he asked after introducing himself. All the while his eyes gazed at the woman with undisguised admiration.

"It seems you hired one of our high school students, a Karakuri Chachamaru," Shizuna answered. "As a minor, it is illegal for her to work in an establishment that serves alcohol."

"I had no idea she was underage," Shinji hastily responded. "I'll take care of that immediately."

"I'm sure you will Kanemaru-san," she said, smiling as sweetly as possible. Shizuna introduced her companion next. "This is Takeshida Abe."

"Takeshida-san is from the labor ministry," the woman explained. "He has graciously consented to review your work policies and certify their compliance with federal regulations."

Two hours of his life had been wasted as the man from the ministry meticulously inspected records. His cell phone rang as Takeshida-san asked to see the payroll next. Glancing down at the number, the club owner muttered a curse and excused himself. Once safely in the men's room, he flipped open the phone. "I humbly apologize for keeping you waiting Kuonji-san?"

"There's no problem here," he assured the distant listener. "I have a man from the labor ministry in my office."

"What!" a loud voice exploded into his ear. "What the hell are you doing talking to the government?"

"No! No Kuonji-san! It was just a mix-up about an underage employee!" Shinji tried to explain as sweat beaded on his forehead. "Not a word about our financial arrangements has been said."

"Get it straight idiot!" the other man shouted. "Until you pay that money back, I own your club! I own you!"

"Yes sir," he replied. "I understand."

"What's this about an underage employee?" Kuonji-san demanded.

"One of the dancers turned out to be a high school student. Her teacher or guardian, I'm not sure which, complained to the authorities."

"Find out who it was and call me back!"

Hearing the dial tone, he flipped the phone's cover down and put it away. Moving to the sink, Shinji turned the tap and, with shaking hands, splashed cold water against his face. "Welcome to Sarakin-jigoku," the face reflected in mirror muttered.

--

Video games are therapy. At least that's what the shrink told his mom after about three months of visits. They provided an escape for all sorts of impulses; emotions, which if pent up, would eventually explode. Kintaro thought the doc was an idiot, but he wasn't going to complain over unlimited 'therapy'. Usually a round or two of virtually smashing someone at the arcade put him in a better mood, but not this time. No matter how much the teen tried to block it out, the image of a girl curled on her side, retching, wouldn't leave him.

He'd been hanging out with his buddies in front of the all-night convenience store when a black Mercedes pulled up. A dark tinted window rolled down and one of the guys inside asked if he knew an American teacher by the name of Markham. "I know that gaijin bastard," Kintaro answered, remembering the drubbing that geezer gave him and his gang.

"You want to make a quick thousand?" the dude asked. "All you need to do is point him out."

They had cruised by the teacher's dormitory and high school without finding a trace of the sensei, when Kintaro spotted a girl with short, black hair wearing a cheerleading uniform. "That's one of his students."

The car stopped and the three suits stepped outside. Surrounding the lone student, they started shouting at her, saying that her sensei needed to "stick to his own affairs."

Not intimidated at all, the girl yelled back "Tell him yourself!"

"Bitch!" the man who offered the money shouted as he backhanded the cheerleader. "Don't talk back to me!"

Again the man's open hand struck her and Kintaro could hear the slap over the idling engine. "Know your place!" the thug yelled as his fist doubled her over. Falling to the ground, the student clutched her stomach. The three toughs stared down and laughed.

"Your sensei needs to keep his nose out of our business," the man warned before leaving.

They dropped him off with the promised money and then sped away. The coin felt hot in his hand, almost as if it would burn him. Buying a bunch of game tokens didn't help either as his thoughts constantly strayed back to the cheerleader. Losing, Kintaro walked away from the machine. "Hey man!" somebody shouted. "You gonna take your tokens?" Ignoring the question, he quietly left the arcade.

--

Student Dormitory Mahora, Japan

Practice for the Nightmare Circus left Zazie hot and sweaty, but had been a welcome respite from Team Negi's training sessions. While the former Ala Rubra mage had a nicer disposition than certain others, he set a pace no less grueling. If McDowell-san had drilled in the theory, Imma-san provided them a chance to apply it.

Exiting the stairwell, bird perched on her shoulder, she heard pounding. Yuna stood in the hall, wearing a basketball team uniform. "Akira," her classmate called out. "Are you in there?"

Stopping next to her caused the dark-haired girl to spin around. "Oh. Hi Zazie-san." Yuna said. "The team had practice today and I think I left my key in the room."

Motioning for Yuna to follow, she brought the girl into her own room. As the bird flew to its accustomed perch, she indicated a low table with cushions arranged about it.

"Man, I really don't want to sit around in a sweaty uniform," Yuna said. Zazie pointed to the laundry basket, prompting her classmate to reply, "Sitting around naked isn't any better."

Quickly she fetched two towels and a plastic tub of bathing supplies. "Got it," the dark-haired girl replied as Yuna snatched one of the towels and headed into the bathroom.

As Zazie began to strip off her own clothing, she pondered why the other girl felt it necessary to change elsewhere. It wasn't as if the girls here didn't see each other in the buff on a regular basis, however the acrobat chalked it up to another in a long line of eccentricities. Her own towel in place, she waited for Yuna to pass out the damp uniform. A bit of white caught her attention and she pulled a brassier out of the bundle.

A trill came from where her feathered friend was perched. Slowly, she nodded her head in agreement.

"Ready to go," Yuna announced as she exited the bathroom. "What's up?"

Holding the bra out, she slowly shook her head back and forth.

"They are not too big," Yuna hotly denied.

Corners of her mouth rose ever so slightly as the white-haired girl pressed her own breasts together and mimed looking down.

"I can too find my feet," her classmate shot back. "Maybe when you fill out some, you'll see what I mean little girl."

Yuna smirked until an embroidered cushion bounced off her face. "Oh, you want to play it that way do you?" the ministra in training said as she snatched up the pillow. Grinning like a madwoman, the ballplayer charged forward.

Zazie shed her towel and then ducked beneath her friend's sweeping attack. A quick yank loosened the other girl's towel; when Yuna grabbed hold of it, it left the ballplayer wide open for a counter attack. Pillows flew fast and furious during a rapid flurry of blows that left the dark-haired student flat on her back.

"Gee, you're too quick for me," a flushed Yuna complained as she held her hand up. Zazie took hold only to be jerked off her feet by the other girl. Sprawled on top of her not so vanquished opponent, her surprised expression brought an amused "Ha!" in response.

"Got'cha!" Yuna gloated as the room's door opened and Mana strolled in.

In reality, it took mere seconds for the tall mercenary to scan the room and note scattered clothing, towels and cushions, but it seemed as if an eternity passed before Mana turned around. Without comment, the gunslinger left.

"Um, Mana-san …" Yuna started to rise but found herself still pinned. "Hey, let me up."

Zazie shook with mirth as she rolled off. Her classmate's outraged "that's not funny" merely made her shake all the more. Trying to stifle her snickers, she clasped a hand to her mouth, but to no avail. A moment later, both girls rolled on the floor laughing. Across the room, a little, white bird observed and tried to comprehend; however, the chaos behind human thought defied any sort of rational analysis. Wisely, the bird decided to go back to preening.

--

"And then beams shot out of her eyes, leaving a burn mark on the recreation room wall."

Phillip glanced from the paper and looked straight into the class 1B president's face. "Beams shot out of her eyes," the teacher repeated. "Do you have any idea how this property damage report of yours sounds Miss Mikami?"

Hands in lap, clasped tightly together, the red-headed student stared back without comment.

"And you Miss Yukihiro," he said, turning to his homeroom's president. "What have you to say about the damage?"

"The damage was caused by class 1A students," Ayaka answered. "As the class rep I assume full responsibility."

"Miss Mikami," Phillip said as he slid the report across the dorm advisor's desk, "I want this reworded into something that doesn't read like a creative writing assignment."

"Yes sensei."

"When was the last time class 1A had responsibility for cleaning?"

"We were assigned our floor last week," the class rep responded. "Our turn for the common areas isn't for a few weeks yet."

"Class 1A will take immediate responsibility for cleaning both the fifth floor and common areas," Phillip told her as the phone rang.

"Student dormitory, Markham speaking," he answered. "Hello Miss Kakizaki, what …"

"No, I haven't but let me check," he said and then pulled the handset from his ear. "Have either of you seen Miss Kugimiya recently?"

Both reps shook their heads in reply. "I'll have to get back to you," he told Misa. "Let me have the number there."

After hanging up, Phillip asked Ayaka to search the dorm for the missing cheerleader. That was hours ago. A beam of light swept back and forth as he walked toward down a drainage ditch. Security had been contacted and the teacher knew others were looking for his student, but waiting grated on already stressed nerves. Getting on hands and knees, he shined the torch's light into a culvert scarcely a half meter wide. Feathers rustled in response as a surprised bird flew out.

Phillip instantly flattened to the ground. The creature landed nearby and the torch light showed it to be a large raven. It squawked in displeasure at the man. "Sorry about that Kerasu-san," he apologized. The bird blinked and then emitted a single "Kaw!" as if to say "don't do it again."

Rising to his feet, Phillip called out "Madoka-san!"

"Doka," a raucous cry sounded. He spun around to find the raven still looking at him. "Doka," it croaked again.

Magic was real. His roommate was a wizard who had a talking ermine for a familiar. A ghost and robot were both enrolled in his homeroom. Another of his students could transform into a dragon. So why shouldn't he ask a bird for help. "I'm looking for Kugimiya Madoka. Have you seen her?"

Launching into the air, the raven cried "Doka" once more in its harsh voice and flew away. Feeling vaguely foolish, the teacher continued searching. Walking along a fence, he flashed the light among bushes on the other side. A rush of wings announced the raven's return as it settled on a post. It appeared to be holding something tightly in its beak, so Phillip help out a hand and the raven dropped a tuft of short, black hairs into his palm.

"Doka," it squawked.

Fluttering from place to place, the raven led him to a familiar trail. Phillip had hiked the path to the World Tree once before and had met Madoka by surprise. Kicking himself for not having thought of it before, the teacher started up the trail.

He found the girl underneath its boughs, forehead resting on drawn up knees. "Madoka-san," he called. "Are you alright?"

No answer. Phillip walked over to the girl and knelt down in a mound of damp leaves and grass. "Madoka-san."

Head still buried by arms, her muffled voice was barely audible. "I tried sensei. I really tried," the girl sobbed. "I tried to learn magic … tried to be like all the others … but it's just no good. I can't do it."

"What happened?"

Pictures flooded through his thoughts, memories of being surrounded by strangers and shouted at. A hand striking her cheek and a punch to the stomach. Lying on the ground as her insides tried to leak out of her mouth. And running, there was lots of running.

Without even realizing it, Phillip held her tightly as the girl's anguished memories filled his mind. A cold anger coiled snake-like about his gut as a face in a parked car appeared. A face the man had encountered before. An image of his fist smashing into the punk's face brought a savage grunt of satisfaction.

"No Mister Markham, you mustn't." Madoka stared at him, her face aghast. Unwittingly he had transmitted his violent response. "Please sensei. Don't make it worse."

"Alright Madoka, I won't lay a finger on the kid," he promised. Slipping an arm underneath her, Phillip lifted her up. "Let's get back to the dorm."

--

During the 30's, Shanghai had been the largest gem in China's crown. Center of wealth and industry, gateway to the outside world, the sprawling coastal city provided the nation's pulse. That heartbeat had grown feeble after months of fighting. Military leaders and imperial advisors had confidently predicted three days to take the city, but they had apparently forgotten to tell the Chinese Army that. Showing stubbornness beyond belief, the Nationalist Army still clung on despite the daily mauling from superior forces.

Lieutenant Aisaka Haru appreciated such tenacity and his unknown Chinese counterparts had won the man's respect. Day after day, their grip grew more tenuous but still they continued to battle despite their inevitable defeat. From the deck of the carrier Hosho, he and his squadron mates had mercilessly pounded the enemy until there were no targets left to strike. Hoping to see some of the ground action, the officer had been allowed to accompany an army unit in the field.

Dawn was still an hour away as the squad he was attached to, waited outside one of Shanghai's numerous suburbs. Word had reached them to expect an attempted breakout by soldiers. Their orders were simple, prevent any retreat. They had dug in along a dry river bed, two machine guns were emplaced and riflemen trained their weapons on a dark line of flowering bushes on the opposite bank.

Softly the tall stalks swayed on that windless morning. A dark shape, travelling low to the ground, detached from the brush. It was followed by another and then another. Tension mounted in the naval pilot as enemy shadows crouched and crawled across the sandy terrain. An infant's shrill cry sounded as the squad leader ordered, "Open fire!"

Gunfire rent the air as bullets sprayed across the river bed. No less loud was the screaming of men dying, their life's blood spilling on the sand, staining it red. In hours, no, only minutes the firing stopped. Grey wisps twisted in the air, invading his nostrils with the pungent scent of gunpowder. Men fixed bayonets and moved out to finish off the enemy. His pistol drawn, Haru followed them.

Not a single weapon or trace of uniform did he see among the raggedly clothed wretches who lay upon the ground, frozen forever in grotesque poses of death. None of them seemed healthy enough for soldiers; many were grey-haired and all looked emaciated. One corpse even clenched a crutch in its cold, lifeless hands.

Again he heard a cry, so like the ones his daughters uttered when mere babes. Quickly he searched through the brush and discovered a woman clutching a squirming bundle. Black hair was visible underneath a straw hat and her body had been riddle with bullets. The infant cried again within its wrappings and one of the privates moved forward with rifle held low. "What do you think you're doing?" he asked the man.

"I'm going to put the little brat out of its misery," the private answered, motioning with the bayonet. "Better this than starving, or letting wild dogs at it."

"Stand back," Haru ordered. The bundle jerked as the slug tore into it. The cry suddenly cut off and an ever widening red circle stained the dirty cloth. The private saluted and moved off in search of other survivors.

Lieutenant Aisaka felt a bitterness in the back of his throat and knew he was likely to be sick if he didn't move on; however, the sight of two bodies lying among the broken stalks immobilized the man. Slowly, he removed his sword and knelt in the sandy soil.

With a sigh, Tsuwabuki closed her father's diary, using the utmost care in handling its brittle pages. Aisaka Haru had been haunted by what he had done that day. She had watched guilt grind away at the man who once laughed so freely, until nothing was left. And her sister's spirit was trapped at Mahora, unable to leave this world though not understanding the reason why. None of them would know peace until …

"Are you coming to bed?" he husband asked, rolling his wheelchair into the room. "Or shall we go out dancing till dawn?"

Kimiaki Soemu grinned at her. They had met after the war, the florist in a land reduced to ashes and the one-legged veteran. Together they rebuilt their lives even as the country rebuilt itself. "Of course darling," the woman replied as she set the book aside and stiffly rose. "I was thinking of Shirai-kun's visit this weekend."

"He's still bringing that young girl over isn't he?" her husband asked.

"He'd better," Tsuwabuki replied as she walked over to him and gently hugged his neck. "I want to meet this Konoe Konoka as see if she's worthy enough for our grandson."

'And if she's strong enough to help all of us,' the woman silently added.

--

**A/N: Chapter heading and title are from 'For Whom the Bells Toll.' One of those novels that's better than I thought but not near as good as my American Lit teachers did.**

**Sarakin – loan shark**

**Sarakin-jigoku – loan shark hell**

**The scene depicted in Aisaka Haru's diary was set during the Second Battle of Shanghai in 1937. The aircraft carrier Hosho was a real ship and took part in the battle.**


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: And so another chapter is added to my never-ending saga. I keep saying I'm going to slow down, but yet I seem to keep churning them out. My thanks to Fionn the Otaku for the cosplay suggestion.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Cycilia Sevensheep appears with Makuhari-Fan01's permission. Other OC's are the product of my imagination.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words"**, **'thoughts'**, "spells", **-telepathy-

**The gods, utterly delighted, cried, "Victory!" to the one who rides on the lion – **Thomas Coburn

**One Who Rides the Lion**

**--**

Ariadne, Mundus Magicus

Stars still twinkled brightly in the night sky as Hiro watched the professor walk away. Picking himself off the pavement, the assassin decided to strike out in the opposite direction. It wasn't his fault that Akashi-san's daughter felt bad about shoving him off a roof, yet that provided scant comfort to the young man's aching jaw. Gently he probed the tender flesh and winced at the contact. With the temperature dropping, he began to look around for a warm place to spend the night; he'd not risk going back to the cottage.

'Maybe I should just ditch this place,' the assassin thought. 'It's not like I belong here.'

Slipping away in the middle of the night would be so easy, but then what? Little money and no knowledge of the land left few options. True, his current popularity might help some; however fame was a fickle commodity. He'd have to hope the professor would be calm enough to speak to in the morning. "That doesn't help right now," he muttered as arms clamped down on chilled hands.

Wrapped up in his own thoughts, Hiro didn't pay attention to the patter of feet until somebody ran into him, sending both to the ground in a tangled heap of limbs. "Oooh," a girl groaned as she struggled into a sitting position.

"Collet?" he asked, surprised at the cadet's unexpected appearance. "Are you all right?

"I think so," she answered. Her glasses had been knocked off by their collision, so the girl squinted in the faint light. "Is that you Mister Oishi?"

Confirming his identity, Hiro helped the confused cadet to her feet and then retrieved her spectacles. "Thanks," she said, settling them back on her nose. "What are you doing out?"

"I wanted to get some fresh air," he replied as his breath steamed white.

"Isn't it too cold for such a light jacket," Collet asked as she clasped the front of her red cloak together.

"That thought crossed my mind," the young man answered. "You wouldn't know of a place nearby where I can warm up do you?"

"I'm on my way to visit my uncle," the girl responded. "Why don't you come along?"

"You not bringing him a basket of goodies by chance are you?"

"Um, no. Why?"

"No reason," Hiro told her.

Collet led him to a squat house set in the middle of a grove. Bare tree limbs swayed as a southern wind picked up. Bending down, she retrieved a key from under the door mat.

"Your uncle keeps the front door key under a mat?"

"Why not?" she replied as the key slid into the lock, swiftly followed by an audible click. "No one would want to bother Magus Farandole."

Unsure he liked the sound of that, Hiro none the less followed his guide inside. Considering the choices offered, freezing was even less appealing. Candles mounted along a wooden paneled hallway sputtered to life as she closed the door. "Uncle," she called out. "It's Collet. And I brought somebody too."

Floorboards creaked under the steady tread of feet. A pair of eyes, shinning yellow, approached out of the darkness. Whatever images the word magus had conjured, they were a far cry from the stout, grizzled beastman wearing a bathrobe and slippers standing before him. "I thought you weren't coming," a gruff voice said. "I was getting ready to turn in for the night."

"Sorry uncle," she apologized. "I rushed over as quickly as I could, but we didn't get back from Emily's home till late."

"So who is this young man with you?"

"Uncle, this is Oishi Kuranosuke," Collet answered in a voice giddy with excitement.

"My name is Balthasar Farandole," the beastman told him. "You may address me as Magus Farandole."

"Uncle!"

"What? This young man's not your boyfriend is he?"

"Of course not," the girl exasperatedly answered. "He's my classmate's boyfriend."

'I am?' Hiro thought as his eyebrows arched in response to her statement. If that was the implication for asking a girl to a dance, the assassin wondered how inviting a boy to meet your mother was perceived. Somehow, he couldn't picture Emily calling herself Daffyd's girlfriend.

Balthasar gave both youngsters another thoughtful glance and motioned for them to follow. Seated in the kitchen, their host poured out three mugs of a steaming liquid that reminded Hiro of spiced cider. Warmth from the cup slowly seeped into blue-tinted fingers.

"Are you an instructor at the school Magus Farandole?" he asked.

"Not anymore," the beastman answered in a regretful tone. "These day's I'm just a referee."

"Don't let him fool you," Collet said. "My uncle's the dean for the school of aero-magic studies."

"And speaking of studies, it's time for your tutoring," the beagle-eared mage reminded her. "Becoming a Valkyrie requires more than having a strong partner doesn't it?"

"Yes uncle," the girl meekly replied.

For the next hour, Hiro sat alone in the dean's library while Collet was tutored by the magus. Few of the books were in languages he could understand, and those that were dealt with aviation or mathematics. Magus Farandole appeared to have little use for recreational reading. Of more interest was a wall covered in photographs of award winners over a thirty year period. In each picture, a pair of girls flanked a trophy nearly as tall as they were with one holding up a placard indicating the year. A team of cat-girls won the previous year's event and Hiro wondered if this was the broom rally he had been told about. Missing from the wall were photos for the years 1982 and 1983.

Naturally, the assassin didn't know any of the winners, but two of the girls seemed familiar. The picture for 1980 was too grainy to be certain but one of the winners had horns just like Grandmistress Seras. Another girl, from 1984, resembled his reluctant baby sitter. He thought of asking if any of Emily's relatives had ever won, but after considering where the girl's team placed, Hiro decided against pressing his luck.

Finally finished, Collet stopped by to say goodnight. After explaining his situation, and glossing over certain parts, Magus Farandole allowed him to stay the night.

"If you don't mind my asking," he said, "what did your uncle mean by 'a valkyrie requires more than having a strong partner'?"

"I made a provisional pactio last year," she admitted, "and my uncle is still upset at me for it."

"What's a pactio?"

"Gosh, I thought everyone knew what a pactio was."

"Sorry. Obviously my education missed a few things."

"Well a pactio is a magical contract between a magister mage and his or her minister partner," the cadet explained. "A mage sends power to the partner, increasing speed, stamina, strength and stuff like that. In return, the partner assists the mage."

Remembering the bounty hunter's remark about partners, Hiro asked, "So is this the same as a marriage?"

"Oh no," Collet quickly answered. "Although many pactio partners do marry, they're separate things. And that's only for permanent pactios anyway. A provisional pactio like mine is only to see if a magister and minister are compatible."

"Knowing you, your minister must be really special."

"I'm the minister," she whispered.

"Oh," he replied in a slightly embarrassed tone. "So a mage can pactio with another mage?"

"It's not that uncommon," Collet replied. "And my magister is special. There's nobody I have more respect or admiration for."

Before she left, the cadet surprised him with a question of her own. "Do you like Beatrix?"

Hiro answered with a simple "Yes."

"I'm glad," Collet replied. Her smile appeared wistful as she continued, "I think she likes you too."

--

Cold. That was how Akashi felt underneath the layers of heavy coat, scarf and sweater. Iron grey clouds blocked out the sun as winter officially arrived in Ariadne. Ignoring the morning chill, people were out enjoying what few daylight hours were available. While the Mundus Magicus' smaller size meant the city was closer to the equator than Mahora was in the Mundus Vetus, Ariadne lay in latitudes that would place it above the northernmost tip of Sakhalin.

A call had woken him from sleep. Cycilia Sevensheep had information for Oishi-san, but his assistant was nowhere to be seen. From the still made bed, it appeared the young man hadn't been in at all. 'Small wonder,' the professor thought as he arranged to meet with the reporter.

Pasiphae Park was a goodly sized park within walking distance of the Kitnews offices. Akashi easily found the broom rental kiosk and watched as a number of riders zoomed by while waiting for the woman to show. Having mastered unassisted flight meant one may not need a broom, but that didn't erase the thrill of racing one.

"Mister Akashi," he heard Cycilia's voice call and glanced about without finding her.

"Up here," she said. Bundled against the weather, the sheep-eared reporter sat on a broom hovering four to five meters above the ground. A knitted cap covered her head and Akashi noted she wore a divided skirt that allowed her to sit astride rather than sidesaddle. "Want to go for a quick spin?"

Renting his own broom, the professor quickly joined her. "I haven't been broom riding in ages," he commented as the two set out at a slow pace.

"Don't fret Mister Akashi," she responded. "It's one of those things you never forget."

"You said you had some information?"

"Yes, but let's not spoil this with shop talk."

They floated along for awhile before he spoke again. "This is very nice but don't you think we're going a trifle slow?"

"Just what I was thinking," Cycilia comment as she leaned forward. "**Accelerant!**"

Broom and rider sped away from the stunned man. Lips stretched wide as he shouted "**Accelerant!**" and then shot off in pursuit. Darting between office buildings, through towering archways and around lofty spires, the pair raced one another. Half-forgotten skills returned as the professor steadily closed the gap between them.

Suddenly she swooped down and, skimming the ground by bare meters, rushed towards the city wall. Akashi could make out a dark cleft ahead. Barely a meter and a half wide and slightly more than two meters tall, the Sheep Gate was the smallest opening in the old city walls. Long nicknamed the needle's eye, countless students challenged themselves to ride full bore through the gate thus threading the needle.

A part of him screamed against this juvenile display of bravado, but that voice was lost in the rush of air as he coaxed just a little more speed out of the broom. Cycilia disappeared inside the narrow gap and in less than the interval between heart beats, Akashi sped between the stone posts into a cramped passageway. Another beat and he was through, flying over the open ground beyond. Quickly dropping speed, the man pulled up beside his smiling opponent. Perspiration poured down the professor's face as his heart pounded wildly in response. 'What were you thinking!' that other voice scolded, but he knew the grin on his face was just as broad as hers.

--

Mahora, Japan

Ask anyone what the weather will be on such and such a date and most people will shrug their shoulders and answer "I don't know." Although there are only a limited number of options available, the art of prediction still came down to a best guess. Historical trends and statistical analysis can identify patterns, but patterns can only tell you not to expect snow in the middle of the summer. Chaos Theory was the term her mathematics instructor used to describe such systems as weather. It seemed to Chizuru to be a good term to explain her predicament.

Consider the following. When you don't want to see a certain someone, it seems you can't go anywhere without constantly bumping into that person. But the minute you want to find that same person, he's nowhere to be found. Watanabe-san was a school dropout whose life's ambitions were to hang with his buddies and torment her at every opportunity. Needless to say, Chizuru would not be searching the boy out if Markham-sensei hadn't asked.

However, Watanabe-san wasn't at any of the usual places: the video arcade, the all-night market or even the restaurant his mother owned. Even his posse didn't know where its leader had gotten off to. Finally giving up the search, she headed for the nearest street car station. Cutting across the lake's sandy shore, laughingly called the beach, Chizuru found the missing boy.

Watanabe-san sat on the ground, knees drawn under his chin, and gazed at the placid surface of the water. He seemed not to notice the crunch of sand under her feet as she approached.

"This isn't your normal hangout," Chizuru said, but the boy gave no sign he had heard. "I've been looking all over for you."

Again, he made no reply, merely continued to stare at the lake. Going against her desire to leave, Chizuru sat down next to the boy. "It's rather peaceful isn't it?"

"Mom used to take me here for picnics when we first moved to Mahora," Watanabe finally replied. "It's kind of like the beach we went to in Osaka."

"Why did you stop going?"

"Running the Beef Bowl took more and more of her time," he replied. "Last year it got to where I hardly ever saw her. Bad enough I never get to see my dad."

Watanabe Toru was a successful boxer who went into business after retiring from the ring. Faced with losing the business, he and his partner plotted to murder the man they blamed for it. Toru provided the gun and his associate fired the shot. But the bullet struck a security guard by the name of Naba instead of its intended target, paralyzing the man from the waist down. While the gunman fled the country, the former boxer was sentenced to prison as an accessory. Meanwhile, her father began therapy to allow him to walk again. She would never like Watanabe Kintaro, but Chizuru could understand his grief.

"One of my classmates was beaten up by strangers yesterday," the girl remarked. "She saw someone waiting in their car. I thought the description sounded familiar."

"Oh God," he groaned, placing forehead against his knees. "I had no idea they were going to hit her."

"Who are they?"

"Just some guys who wanted to teach your sensei a lesson," Kintaro answered. "I keep seeing her being hit and lying on the ground, over and over like a bad dream; only I can't wake up."

Although Chizuru loved children, there always seemed to be that one youngster she could never warm up to. Yet despite how she felt, as a daycare volunteer the teen couldn't treat any child differently. Each one deserved a turn to go first; each needed guidance and assistance regardless of her feelings. "Do you want to wake up?"

"Huh?"

"If you want to escape from this nightmare, tell the school authorities what happened."

"Are you crazy?" he responded in disbelief. "What do you think they'll do to me?"

"Whatever it is," the girl answered, "is it worse than what you're doing to yourself?"

--

Phillip watched as the school's chief of operations looked up from her paper strewn desk. "We've had a positive identification of the men who assaulted your student Markham-san," Toko informed him. "With his testimony, we'll be able to lock them up."

"What about their boss?" the teacher asked. "What's going to happen to him?"

"Not a thing," the woman answered in a matter of fact tone. "Unless those three give evidence against him, we have nothing to charge Kuoji-san with."

"You don't think those goons decided to go after me on their own do you?" Phillip asked with more heat than he had intended. "We need to nail their boss too."

"What you or I suspect isn't important," Toko replied, slamming the heel of her hand down on the table for emphasis. "I only deal with hard evidence."

"You want evidence, I'll get it for you," he promised. "Give me 24 hours …"

"No Markham-san!" the operations chief cut him off. "I'll not have you muddy an investigation regardless of how good your intentions are."

Remaining silent, he watched as the woman's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You are to stay clear of this case," Toko ordered. "Am I clear?"

"Perfectly," the teacher replied as he turned on his heel and marched out of her office.

Outside, Phillip found his 'bodyguard' wearing a "so?" expression.

"She said no," he explained.

"I could'a told you," Kotaro said with a grin. "Now what?"

Opening the address book in his cell phone, Phillip began to scan the names. "The secret to every successful operation is to have a contingency."

"What's a con-tin-gen-cy?" the elementary student asked.

"A contingency is what's never going to happen but never fails to bite you on the ass when it does," he answered as a specific name was highlighted and the select key pressed.

"Hello," a scratchy voice said over the speaker.

"Markham here; Hammerhead's a go." And with that, the former sergeant hung up.

"Hammerhead?" Kotaro asked. "You mean like the shark?"

"Yes, but it's also what you use to drive in a nail," the man answered. "Since you're tailing me anyways, do you want to join the fun?"

"Might as well," Kotaro replied as the boy's heart began to beat in anticipation of a fight.

--

Pachinko Palace, Mahora Japan

A fat man in a loud, purple suit bulled his way along the pachinko parlor floor. Teeth clamped down on an unlit cigar, nearly chewing through its tip. "Where is she?" he demanded of a heavily muscled attendant.

"That's her," the other man pointed to a green-haired girl playing one of the more popular machines.

Even as his employee spoke, Kuonji saw another jackpot come up on the screen. "How much has she won?"

"Over two hundred thousand now," the attendant answered.

"Idiot," the parlor owner said in a low voice. "Didn't you change the odds?"

"Twice sir," the other replied. "She drops in another 10 thousand and starts winning again."

"Excuse me miss," Kuonji said loudly as he approached the "lucky" player.

Her face was beautiful, almost breathtakingly so, but the girl's expression was void of any sort of emotion. 'What a poker face,' he thought admiringly.

"I'm sorry but you'll have to stop playing," Kuonji told her. "We need to take the machine down for maintenance."

"Very well," that emotionless face responded. "I'll just move to another machine."

"That won't be possible," the portly man remarked. "Whichever machine you move to will be out of order as well."

"I don't understand."

"Why don't we discuss it privately," he suggested. "Meanwhile my employee here will cash in your winnings."

Walking her back to his office, Kuonji offered her a drink that she politely turned down. "My name Kuonji Toi," he introduced himself. "I own this establishment. And you are?"

"Katherine McDowell," the green-haired beauty answered in a monotone. "Why may I not continue playing?"

"Let me be frank McDowell-san," he answered. "It takes more than luck to hit seven consecutive double-jackpots. You were cheating."

"No cheating was involved," she calmly replied. "I kept playing the same machine long enough to determine what its pattern of payouts is."

"That's impossible," he flatly declared.

"Not impossible if you know what the payout mode is," the girl responded. "And it only takes about 2500 plays to determine that."

"As for cheating Kuonji-san," she continued, "I'd say that would apply more to a business that reset modes on a customer in the middle of play."

"What the … are you some kind of cop?"

"No, I'm merely a girl struggling to make ends meet."

A polite knock interrupted as one of his guards entered the office. "I have a check Kuonji-san."

"Give it to her and escort the young lady out," he ordered. "And McDowell-san, you are not welcome here again."

After glancing about his office, the green-haired woman gave him an amused smile. "Don't worry Kuonji-san," she said, "I'll not be back."

--

Girls Dormitory, Mahora Japan

"I need you to back me up," Mana said as the mercenary handed her a futuristic looking rifle.

"What is this thing?" Yuna asked, gingerly holding the strange weapon. "Looks like something from that Stargate television show."

"It's an automatic shotgun," her mentor explained. "The rotating drum hold ten rounds and can fire four times a second."

Yuna looked aghast at the taller girl. "You don't expect me to need this cannon do you?"

"If she gets past me," Mana replied with her mouth twisted into a predatory grin, "you'll have to be able to take her down."

At the words "take her down," Yuna's mouth went dry. That morning, she had been trying to imitate Mana's coin trick while waiting for her clothes to finish drying. Managing to actually fire a 500 yen piece across the laundry room, the student knelt to retrieve the coin from behind a row of machines when she found them. Black clothing, including boots, gloves and infra-red goggles, had been shoved into a small hole hidden by a washer.

A black, knitted ski mask yielded three strands of hair, snowy white in color. Quickly, she had brought it to her nose and inhaled deeply. "Oh God," Yuna groaned upon recognizing the faint scent. Zazie-san had lent her some shampoo and it had an unmistakable fragrance. With most of their floor empty, Mana planned to confront the quiet acrobat.

"Try to keep civilians out of the area," Mana instructed and then set off down the hall. "I'm counting on you."

As the gunslinger disappeared into a dormitory room, the stairwell door swung open and out stepped class 1B's student representative. "Don't block the hall," Mikami-san told her and then froze at the sight of the shotgun. "Holy Mother of God!" the red-haired student fearfully cried.

Mikami took a step back as all hell broke loose in the corridor. A wooden door splintered as the dark-haired mercenary crashed through it. Mana slammed into the far wall and slid down. Scaled hands tipped with knife-like claws gripped either side of the door way as the mercenary drew both pistols and fired. Like a movie running in slow motion, Yuna saw the flash as guns fired, heard the screams of the girl behind her and felt the cold metal trigger beneath her finger.

A monstrous dragon stomped into the hallway as Mana yelled, "Now!"

A dragonish muzzle swung her way and two golden orbs stared at her. Zazie had saved all of their lives back in California. Yuna had extended her hand in friendship and the other girl had accepted it. The two had trained together, laughed together and watched cheesy horror movies together. "Zazie-san! Stop!" Even as she yelled, her finger slipped from the trigger.

"Shoot!" the mercenary cried but Yuna ignored the order.

Lowering her weapon, Yuna gazed straight into the dragon-girl's eyes. How she managed to speak with her heart in throat, the girl never knew, but in a level voice she declared, "You'll have to go through me to leave."

One scaled foot after another thumped on the carpeted floor as Zazie moved towards her, growing larger with each step like a wave ready to crash down upon her. Fear battered against Yuna, demanding that she flee. Without a shred of her normal bravado, the would-be hero calmly waited even when Mikami-san dropped to the floor in a faint. The dragon towered over her and time slowed to a crawl as irresistible force met unmovable object.

-Move!- a silent voice commanded.

'No,' she thought back.

-I don't want to hurt you.-

'You'll have to in order to leave.'

A scaled hand rose, each razor sharp claw able to rip through flesh as easily as paper, and gently gripped her shoulder. -Please,- the voice begged.

"No," Yuna whispered as her arms embraced the creature.

Slowly the dragon's form rippled and shrank. Instead of scales, flesh pressed against her cheek. "Why?" an abnormally husky sounding Zazie asked.

"Because you are my friend."

After taking Mikami-san to the infirmary downstairs, the three classmates gathered in Yuna's room as the questioning began. Zazie admitted to firing the shot at Markham-sensei but refused to explain why.

"You know the headmaster could force you to talk," Mana reminded the reluctant girl. "Did you kill McDowell-san?"

"No!" Zazie denied as her face, flushed in anger snapped up. "I would have if the opportunity presented itself, but someone beat me to it."

Yuna was confused. "Why would you want to kill McDowell-san?"

"She was a foul monster!" the other girl spat out. "My father died because of her!"

"Wha-a-t?"

"Do you also hold a grudge against Markham-sensei?" the mercenary demanded, but Zazie merely bent her head.

Yuna put her hand over top of her friend's. "Please tell us why."

"I only meant to scare sensei away," the white-haired girl admitted. "I don't want him to get hurt. I owe him so much …"

Refusing to look at the others, Zazie told them about the massacre of the circus in Kosovo. "I spent several months wandering around, doing whatever I could to survive," the acrobat explained. "I wound up in a little village outside the American base at Strpce."

"A man who kept the only bar, gave me scraps and a place to sleep. Each morning I would beg from passersby and turn all the money over to him. One day, he sent me to the back room saying somebody wanted to meet me. A soldier was in the room and I could see the man was aroused. One cannot grow up among animals without learning certain facts. I understood what was expected of me."

"How old were you?" Mana asked.

"Ten."

Yuna felt sick as she realized what the girl was describing. Though fearing the answer, she couldn't help but ask what happened.

"The soldier exposed himself and called me over, but I stood there terrified. He grabbed hold of my arm and the back of my neck and tried to … to …"

"You don't have to explain," Mana told her. "How does sensei figure in this?"

"As we struggled, I screamed. A moment later, the door was kicked in and another soldier rushed in. This new soldier screamed words I didn't understand at the man trying to rape me, and then tackled him. I cowered against the wall as the two men rolled on the floor. The second soldier came out on top and started to punch the first. He hit him so many times, I thought he would kill the first man. Other soldiers wearing armbands came in and pulled the two apart. I don't think I ever knew who the first soldier was, but the name stitched on the other's uniform was 'Markham'."

With a start, Yuna realized she had been holding her breath and exhaled. "Wow. I never knew your life was so tough."

"Others had it far worse Yuna-san," Zazie responded. "What happens now Tatsumiya-san?"

"That depends," the gunslinger answered. "Are you going to try to chase our teacher off?"

"I don't want to see him hurt," the white-haired girl responded.

"Markham-sensei has already interfered with our enemy's plans," Mana said. "Do you believe they'll let him walk away?"

"I won't attempt to scare sensei away," Zazie promised. "Ask whatever oaths you wish and I will swear them."

"Well, that's it then," Yuna said with the beginnings of a grin. It dissolved as she looked between the others' grim faces. "Um, right?"

"Very well Rainyday-san, however I'll have to inform the headmaster about this."

"Whew," Yuna exclaimed as her instructor left the room. "Oh man!"

"What is it?"

"How are we going to explain what happened when Mikami-san wakes up?"

For the first time that evening, Zazie grinned. "I have an idea. Can you help me get a few things from my club?"

--

Pachinko Palace, Mahora Japan

Finally finished with instructing Sayo on her role, he watched as the plush doll guided a spy golem to the pachinko parlor's upper floor and then the former sergeant turned to his two helpers. A couple of elementary-age boys, dressed in dark suits and glasses, stared back at the American. Kotaro had seemed mildly bored before but now a broad grin of anticipation creased his face. On the other hand, Mihai's face was void of any expression.

"You two ready?" Phillip asked and received two nods in return. "Alright gentlemen, in the words of a great hero 'it's time to kick butt and chew gum'."

Suddenly, the white-haired boy patted his pockets and then looked at his associate.

"What's wrong?" Kotaro asked.

"I'm all out of gum," the other boy deadpanned.

Kotaro responded by rolling his eyes and giving Mihai a light punch to the arm.

Walking into the parlor, several double-takes were directed to the trio, particularly the "boys" playing at being 'Men in Black.' "Oh, how cute," some of the female patrons cried, bringing a disproving frown the dark-haired boy.

A worker intercepted them. "Are these kids with you?" the man asked.

"Yes," Phillip answered. "My name is Markham."

Holding out a check, he continued, "I have business with Kuonji-san."

Taking hold of the check, the worker disappeared to return a few minutes later with a couple of suit wearers that screamed hired muscle. "Come with us Markham-san," one of the newcomers said and then motioned for the boys to remain behind when they moved to follow.

"They come with me," the teacher insisted. "Unless there's a reason your boss is afraid of witnesses."

"Suit yourself," came a terse reply.

They were led through the backdoor, into a storage area for pachinko machines and then up a set of steps. Stairs emptied into a large room set up as a lounge with a large screen television and wet bar. Six more men rose from their seats as the party entered. Phillip started forward but halted as Kotaro cleared his throat. The boy pointed down at the tatami mats.

As the trio doffed their footwear, an overweight man, chomping on the end of a cigar, stormed into the room. After glancing at the three, the smoker bellowed, "Are you Markham?"

"Are you Kuonji?" he shot back.

"What is this about?" the parlor's owner demanded as he waved a check made out to Katherine McDowell around.

"That was my invitation in," Phillip answered. "I figured a man like you only listens to money."

The loan shark scowled in response. "Why are you here?"

"I understand you wanted to talk." Feeling the tension around him rise, he decided to jack it up a few notches more. "That is unless you lack the balls to deal with anyone besides teen age girls?"

"Shut your mouth!" Kuonji shouted. "Or I'll break you!"

Violent images rushed at Phillip as the man who'd punched Madoka asked, "You want us to take care of him boss?"

"Before you answer Kuonji," he interrupted and craned his neck towards a window, "you might want to look over there."

He didn't have to view the other man's thoughts to see a shadowy form crouched in the office across the street. Nor the cylindrical shape, so like a rifle barrel, the figure aimed. The money lender's cigar fell to the floor as the shaken man turned. "What are you trying to pull Markham-san?"

"I want to talk Kuonji-san," Phillip replied, knowing that their every word was being recorded. "Now. Privately."

Trembling, the ashen-faced loan shark motioned him to follow. Before leaving the room, the teacher turned to his young companions. "Remember to play nice boys."

--

Takane Goodman ducked out of sight as the two men left the main room. A glamour vaguely resembling the sharpshooter Tatsumiya-san faded as the shadow mage grinned at her companions. After handing Mei's broom back to the girl, the teacher's assistant looked at Nodoka, who nodded in return.

"**Adeat**," the dark-haired student said, summoning her artifact. The diary hovered in the air, just above the student's outstretched hand, and opened to a blank page. "Kuonji Toi."

Seating themselves in a circle, the girls set to work. As Nodoka's book revealed the thugs thoughts, Mei translated onto a pad of paper for Takane to transmit to Markham. At first, sensei's plan had seemed overly complicated, but it was making sense now that she saw it in action. Instead of directly challenging Kuonji-san, they could gather enough information to convict that scummy little man along with his minions.

'Still,' the blonde mage wondered with a bit of ire, 'why do the boys get all the fun?'

--

Kotaro kept grinning at the guy who hit Madoka.

"What's so funny?" the man sneered at him.

"You," the boy impudently replied. "You ain't near as tough as you act."

"Watch your mouth punk," the thug snarled. "Or …"

"Or what?" Kotaro asked with a smirk. "You gonna beat up little kids like you do girls?"

A red flush began to color the thugs face as his barbs jabbed past thin skin. "Don't let the brats get to you," one of the other's warned.

"Yeah, it's tough when you gotta stay leashed," the hanyo continued. "This is boring Mihai. How 'bout a game of catch?"

"What will we use?"

In response, Kotaro snatched up a table lamp and tossed it to the white-haired boy shouting "Catch!"

"Put that down you little twerps!" another of Kuonji-san's men shouted.

Mihai caught the lamp and threw it back as Kotaro moved like a receiver running down field. The lamp went just beyond the youngster's reach and crashed into the television, shattering the screen. "Oops."

"No problem," Kotaro said. "Let's try that again."

"Damn brats!" Madoka's assailant yelled. "I'll teach you a lesson!"

A fist swung at Kotaro's face, but he easily ducked beneath it and the next. Another of the toughs ran towards them, however the man tripped over Mihai's outstretched foot and crashed into a table. "Sorry," the white-haired boy responded.

The room erupted into pandemonium as eight men tried to corner a couple of boys who managed to dance out of reach. One of the thugs rushed at Kotaro's back just as the boy sidestepped another swing, and received a punch to the face as a reward. Two men were trying to grab Mihai, who moved over, around and under a ladder-back chair like a Hong Kong cinema hero.

"Damn it! They're just a couple of kids!" somebody shouted as Kotaro evaded another attack. If the object was to keep their boss rattled, this should be doing it he thought. At the sound of breaking glass, he glanced over to the wet bar. A man holding the shards of a bottle charged with blood in his eyes.

Jagged edges thrust towards him. Dodging to the side, he grabbed his opponent's wrist and flipped the man onto his back. "You could hurt someone like this," the hanyo said as he removed the makeshift weapon from a limp hand.

Above the bedlam, Kotaro heard the cocking of a gun's hammer and spun around to find a pistol aimed at him. At the same time, Kuzonoha-san and her security force raced into the room. As the gunman's finger jerked back, the shinmei-ryu's sword was out. Light flashed from its polished surface as Toko slashed and the pistol's barrel fell to the floor with a thud.

--

Girl's Dormitory, Mahora Japan

Walking into the security chief's office for a second time that day, Phillip had expected her rip him a new one. But Kuzunoha-san calmly took his report and dismissed the teacher. No ranting, no raving, not even a trace of froth from the woman who had so emphatically told him to butt out earlier. While neither recordings nor pages from Nodoka's diary would be admissible in a court, there was enough evidence to start an investigation.

Wearily, he stepped into the advisor's office only to be waylaid by a nearly incoherent student. "Oh my God sensei," Mikami-san babbled. "First there was this huge gun and … and then she crashed through the door and started shooting … and then … and then a dragon crawled out of a room."

"What? Shooting? Dragon?"

Hands clutched his jacket lapels as the distraught girl sobbed, "It was horrible."

"Wow!" a student yelled excitedly. "That's so cool!"

"Stand back," Yuna ordered as Phillip and class 1B's clinging president stepped into the lobby.

A crowd of students had gathered around Akashi and Rainyday, oohing and aahing over the girls' costumes. Yuna wore a blue and red leotard that left little to the imagination. Her shoulders sported a pair of epaulets, sporting more gold braid than the entire sixth fleet. Knee high boots and a white cap completed her outfit. In her arms was cradled a high tech rifle that would not have looked out of place in a science fiction thriller.

Multi-colored scales stood out against Zazie's dark complexion and two, antelope-like horns rose above her head. The acrobat's costume was even more revealing that her friends, reminding the teacher of a harem girl.

"She may look tame," Yuna continued, "but there's no fiercer creature in the known galaxy than a dragon-girl from the planet Profundus."

"Miss Akashi," Phillip called out. "What is going on?"

"We're trying out an idea for the upcoming festival," Yuna answered. "Zazie-san thought the class could do a fantasy themed café."

Mikami-san's fist was clenched so tightly, the rep's knuckles were turning white. "Miss Akashi did you discharge that weapon?" he asked.

"No sir," his student quickly assured. "We were doing some role playing upstairs and things got a little out of hand. We, uh, did damage a door."

"Where's Yukihiro-san?" the teacher demanded.

"I think iincho-san's still at the dodgeball match."

"I want to see her the minute she steps inside the dorm," Phillip told them. "As for you two, get changed into something appropriate and then report back here on the double."

--

**A/N: Chapter heading and title are from an Indian epic poem, the Mahishasuramardhi, translated by Thomas Coburn.**

**The shotgun Yuna is armed with is the Pancor Jackhammer. I'm not sure if it was used in any of the Stargate series, but it could have been.**

**And for the record, I have only a passing knowledge of Pachinko. If I have something wrong, dear aficionado, I apologize.**


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: And so Madoka gets her time in the spot light. Since she normally shares with her fellow cheerleaders, I think this is a fanfic first. And more stuff happening all over the map.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Other characters are of my creation.**

**The following conventions are use: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, '_reading_', and _memories_

**Castle Perilous**

_**The next morning they arrived at Castle Perilous by the sea, festooned with the corpses of Arthur's knights **__- Thomas Malory_

**--**

**School Gymnasium Mahora, Japan**

Attending sporting contests had never been a priority for Evangeline, but this evening the vampire bestirred herself from the comforts of her room and braved the high school's gymnasium. Tonight was the opening game of the dodgeball season, and the bleachers were packed tighter than a doorway when class was dismissed. Several teachers and administrators were in the crowd too. Negi was there to see Asuna play, and clustered about the youngster were Takahata, Minamoto, Seruheiko and Nitta. No doubt the ogre's presence ensured that Boya received a break from an annoying stream of female admirers.

She was surprised by Markham's absence, but figured the man was dealing with a dormitory issue. In fact, several girls from Phillip's homeroom class were missing as well. Since Hasegawa never went to games, it wasn't surprising that Chachamaru wasn't there; however, it was highly unusual for Nodoka not to be with her fellow library explorers. Even the little mutt was gone; normally Kotaro would be following Chizuru around like an overly-excited puppy. And where had the class paparazzi gotten off to?

A boisterous cheer went up as the teams dashed out of their dressing rooms. For once, Asuna wasn't wearing those ridiculous bells, opting instead to pin her hair up like several teammates. As players stripped off their warm-up suits, both cheer squads rushed onto the court and began prancing about in a ritual that served no purpose other than to flash a lot of leg and …

"Mistress," her demonic maid said. "Can I have a uniform like those girls?"

"No," Evangeline promptly answered. "You have a perfectly good uniform."

Having the lilim along wasn't something the vampire wanted to do. However, after hearing from Misa what had been going on, leaving the demon unsupervised didn't seem such a good idea. That was another problem that needed to be dealt with soon. Maybe a pool of volunteers wasn't so farfetched after all. Becoming a procuress for a succubus was so ludicrous an idea, she couldn't help but be amused at the thought.

As the first game ended, two things were apparent to Evangeline. Asuna had come a long way in controlling the kanka. Finally comfortable with the technique, the girl used power with almost unconscious ease, yet kept its traces to nearly undetectable levels. The second was that Madoka was still moping about. Watching the cheerleader shuffle half-heartedly through the routines angered the undead mage. 'An apprentice of mine needs a stiffer backbone than this,' she disgustedly thought.

"Come with me," Evangeline growled as she rose.

"Are we leaving mistress?" the demon asked.

"No, I see a butt in serious need of kicking."

--

Confused by the woman's snappish voice, Madoka followed Ishikawa-sensei into the darkened tunnel. "What's this about?" the cheerleader asked as she recognized the shape-shifting maid.

"Quiet," the magic teacher imperiously commanded. "Himeiko is going to fill in for you while we have a little talk."

Edges around the maid blurred in response and Madoka found herself staring into her own face. Her duplicate curtsied and left while sensei turned on her and in an angry voice declared, "You make me sick Kugimiya-san!"

"Wha-a-at?"

"You begged me to teach you in order to help your friends," the woman said with a vehemence that caused the teen to step back. "But when the first rough spot comes up, you slink away with your tail tucked between your legs."

"But …"

"But nothing!" the woman's voice echoed off the walls. "Even Asuna-san couldn't piss me off this much!"

"What does Asuna-san have to do with this?" she demanded to know.

Disdaining to answer, the woman merely commanded "Come with me."

Madoka would have refused, but her limbs began to move by themselves, following Ishikawa-sensei out the nearest exit and into the woods behind the school. Marching behind the teacher, it felt as if she were bound by tiny strings that moved her along like a puppet. A dying moon hung overhead, spilling its light down on a little cottage. The mage held out a hand, feeling the air as if searching a wall for some tiny crack or crevice. Not wanting to expose herself to more of the woman's sharp-edged tongue, the teen resisted asking any further questions.

"There," the mage cheerfully cried and then chanted, "**Lic lac la lac lilac ostendo**."

Glowing green lines appeared before them, forming a shape like that of a computer keyboard. "Now what was that secret code," the teacher muttered. "Oh right. Up arrow twice, down arrow twice, left arrow, right arrow, left arrow, right arrow, B, A and enter."

Privately the teen wondered just how much game playing Ishikawa-sensei did if that was supposed to be a "secret" code. As the pair entered the cabin, sensei murmured another phrase and a ball of soft light sprang into existence. It hovered above the woman's outstretched palm, illuminating the front parlor. Dolls of every shape and size rested on nearly all of the available surfaces save for the floor. "Who lives here?" the dark-haired girl whispered.

"This cabin belonged to one of the most powerful mages ever," Ishikawa answered. "The Queen of Darkness, Evangeline McDowell."

"Evangeline-san?" the shocked teen snorted. "One of the most powerful ever? You've got to be kidding me?"

More words stuck in her throat as the woman whirled and glared at her. "It isn't wise to mock the dead," she was informed. "Especially since the Dark Evangel was a vampire as well as a dark mage. Who knows if she'll stay dead?"

She gulped in response to the stare and quietly followed her guide down to the basement. In the center of the room stood a series of five glass spheres connected to a central sphere. A miniature castle and tower could be seen in two of the spheres while the others seemed to be landscapes. 'Like a ship in a bottle,' the girl thought.

"Step towards the spheres," Ishikawa commanded and Madoka dutifully obeyed. One moment, the girl stood in the cabin's basement, and the next she was atop a slender column covered by bizarre symbols. The platform soared hundreds of meters above a tropical rainforest. Heat and humidity teamed together to saturate the girl's uniform with moisture. Slowly, she walked towards a causeway that led to a huge palace built along a cliff's edge covered in lush, green foliage. Water roared as it rushed over a series of falls.

"Where am I?"

"You are in my world now Kugimiya-san," a familiar voice piped up. Twirling about, Madoka beheld the specter of her dead classmate.

"Evangeline-san? But … but …"

Lips parted in that sweet and innocent seeming face, displaying twin fangs. As she stepped back in retreat, the tiny vampire advanced. "What is it Kugimiya-san? Aren't you happy to see me?"

"No! I mean yes! I … I don't know what I mean."

"What a pathetic loser," Evangeline said as the vampire forced her back another step.

"I want to learn magic. I want to save my friends." The mage's voice was scornful. "Well now is your chance."

"What do you mean?"

"Escape the Perilous Gard and you can return to Mahora," Evangeline told her.

"Wait a minute! What do you mean by escape?" she asked, backing further away. As her foot touched another of the carved sigils, a shower of golden sparkles surrounded the terrified girl. Once more, she was whisked from the tower top to a chamber filled with mirrors. "And what's a Perilous Gard?" she asked, still dazed by the sudden shifts.

"Gard is a dusty, old word for castle," a new voice answered.

A dark-haired boy about 16 years old reflected in a dozen mirrors. "Kojiro-san!"

Friend of Negi-kun's cousin Nagi, Kojiro had shown up for last summer's festival. After thoughtlessly intruding on Ako while the girl was dressing, the two boys and their companions helped Madoka track down the frightened bassist. He had looked so cool, even wearing those ridiculous dog ears and tail, but acted as mature as a ten year old most of the time. However, that didn't matter as she ran to the row of grinning images. Halting before them, her gaze shifted uncertainly from one to another. "Which one are you?"

With a laugh, one of the boys stepped forward as the others turned their backs to her. "Long time no see," he said.

Madoka wanted to reach out and grab onto the one familiar person in this world gone crazy, but a sudden bit of caution held her back. "How did you get here?" the teen asked. "And how do you know about this place?"

"I don't know," he answered, shrugging his shoulders. "I just do."

"A hall of mirrors," Kojiro continued as he scanned the room. "It's like a carnival."

"A carnival," she repeated. Evangeline had said this test would determine if she'd stay at Mahora or not. Previous training under Ishikawa-sensei had been more in the nature of problem solving exercises. Could this be any different?

"Well don't worry," the boy assured her. "Saving damsels in distress is what I do best."

"Damsels in distress?" Before Madoka could say anymore, Kojiro grasped her by the wrist and advanced into the mirrored maze.

"This way," he said. "I have an infallible sense of direction."

Working their way through the twisting labyrinth, he kept up a steady commentary. "You know I've been thinking about you ever since the festival."

"You have?"

"And I know you've been thinking about me too."

A guilty expression briefly crossed her face as Madoka realized she hadn't thought of him at all since the term's beginning.

"It's only natural since you're obviously crazy about me," he continued.

"What did you say?" she nearly screeched while jerking to a stop.

"Oh come on," Kojiro said as he flashed a rakish grin. "I could tell you were digging me from the moment we met."

Heat climbed into her cheeks as the girl throttled an urge to bury her fist in the middle of that smug kisser.

"You look so cute all flushed like that." Kojiro turned and began moving on. "It's one of the things that attracted me to you."

'And I thought he'd matured?' Madoka asked herself.

"What is it that attracted you to me first?" the boy asked as they walked out of the maze. Glancing about revealed that their route had brought them back to the starting point. "Dang! How'd that happen?"

"In answer to both questions," she replied, "I'd say it was your infallible sense of direction."

As she set out to find her own path out, Madoka heard the boy call "Wait!" followed by a "would you look at that." Glancing back, she saw Kojiro striking a pose in front of a mirror.

"Looking good," he opined while gazing at his reflection. Shaking her head in disgust, she found another exit and left the young Narcissus behind.

--

A low murmur grew steadily louder as Madoka felt her way along the corridor. It resolved into a voice not unlike those TV pitchmen who grated on her nerves in seconds flat. "This is the Chiu Network coming live," the obnoxious voice announced. "All Chiu! All the time!"

Exiting the maze brought her into a dome shaped room. A ring of monitors, set into the wall, encircled her. Pictures of the web idol flashed on the screens at breathtaking speeds. Chiu dressed as a demure Little Miss Muffet, or a playful nekomimi complete with gloves and slippers fashioned into paws. One had her in a maid costume while the next showed her as a deranged looking bunny-girl wielding a ceramic carrot. All the while the announcer kept up his annoying patter.

White flashed before her eyes as a mouse, resembling nothing so much as a plush doll, hovered before the surprised teen's face. "May I help you?" a pleasant voice asked.

"Wha, aah, who are you?"

"I'm Negi," the fluffy creature answered. "Are you here to see my mistress?"

"Your mistress isn't Evangeline McDowell is it?"

"Oh no, we have nothing to do with that riff-raff," Negi assured her. "My mistress is the incomparable Chiu-sama."

In the room's center, the divine web idol reclined upon a heavily padded couch as a bevy of green-haired maids waited upon her. One of the maids plucked a large, purple grape from a platter another held, deftly splitting it with a red-lacquered finger nail and removing the seeds. So prepared, the grape was then popped into Chiu's mouth.

"Ahhhhh," the divine one declared. "This is heaven."

Negi bobbed over to the group, reminding Madoka of a ball that bounced over the words of a sing-a-long song. "Mistress," he called. "One of your adoring fans is here."

"Let my fan approach," the incomparable idol declared.

Green-haired maids parted, leaving a channel for the bewildered girl to walk down. "Come," Chiu bid her. "No need to be shy."

"Chiu has a visitor," the hidden announcer said.

"What is your name?"

"Kugimiya Madoka," she replied and then stared for a moment at the woman lolling at ease. "Hasegawa-san! What are you doing here?"

A frown of displeasure appeared in response to her statement. "I am Chiu, the world's greatest teen idol. Who is this Hasegawa-san?"

"She's a student in my homeroom class," Madoka answered. "Wears glasses and is a bit of computer nerd."

"As you can see no glasses here and I am the antithesis of a nerd," the reclining girl replied with a laugh that was mimicked by the maids. Hearing dozens of laughs in the exact same voice was odd, but stranger yet was the complete and utter silence after the web idol motioned for quiet.

Chiu stretched and then complained of being too warm. Instantly, one of the servants produced a feather fan, from where Madoka had no idea, and commenced to wave it over the prostrate girl.

"So what brings you to me?" the idol asked.

"I'm trying to find my way out of this castle," she answered.

"That sounds like too much work," the other teen commented. "You should relax and let the world take care of itself. Look at me. I used to scurry about frantically, just like you. Nothing is so important that one can't enjoy a bit of leisure."

"I like you," Chiu suddenly declared. Madoka's image appeared on the monitors with the words '_Kugimiya has been invited to join Chiu's community_' underneath her image. Followed by '_A Yes_' and '_B No_.'

"Uh, I'd like to accept your hospitality," the teen responded. "However I need to find my way out."

"I'm going to do you a favor," the web diva told her as the word '_No_' flashed. "Put her in our guest room. Maybe she can learn to take life easier."

"Thanks, but I really must be …" she started to say when two maids grabbed hold of her arms and hoisted Madoka up. Despite her protests, the green-haired servitors carried the struggling high school student down a flight of steps and into what was surely a dungeon. Shackled to the wall, she watched an iron bound door swing shut as her jailers left, plunging the "guest room" into darkness.

Manacles chaffed both wrists and ankles while chain links clinked together as the girl stood. Fingers explored her bindings, searching for some weak point to attack, however no amount of pulling or rattling got her closer to freedom. Defeated for the moment, she sank back down on a floor covered by dank smelling straw. 'I need to get out of here, but how?'

When Madoka's parents bought her the laptop, it was with the expectation that a computer would help their daughter's school work. Of course, it was allowed her to download music videos and edit the band's songs as well as an occasional foray into the World Wide Web. Information on any subject was but a mouse click away, including a video on how to pick locks with a paper clip she had looked up after Asakura-san recommended it.

By squatting, the teen found her hands could reach either padlock securing the wrist shackles. While the cheerleader wasn't in the habit of carrying around paper clips, even hair as short as she wore needed a few pins to keep the bangs out of her eyes. One pin was hastily bent into a double L and inserted into the key slot and twisted. Holding that piece in place with her teeth, Madoka slipped another bent pin into the top of the slot and began to jiggle it up and down, back and forth. Her knees had begun to cramp by the time she heard a click and the lock sprang open.

Once free of the chains, the girl stood and rubbed numb feeling legs to get the circulation flowing. Pressing a hand against the wall, she carefully approached the stairs to the dungeon's door, stopping when her feet encountered the first, stone step. In total darkness, she mounted each step one at a time, until fingers touched the door's oak planks. Pushing against the door brought a rattle in response.

Heart leapt into throat as a high-pitched squeak called out, "Kugimiya-san?"

"Is that you Negi-san?" she asked, recalling the doll-like mouse.

"Yes," the voice answered. "I'm terribly sorry about this. I don't know what my mistress was thinking."

"Is this door locked?"

"No," the mouse replied. "It has a metal bar across it."

"How big is the bar?"

"It crosses the door and is about the width of your thumb."

Taking her ID card out of its protective cover, the cheerleader found it fit easily between the door and jamb. Sliding it upwards, Madoka discovered that she could lift the bar with it. The clang of metal striking the floor brought a sigh of relief. Torches set along the wall flickered as the girl stepped out of the cell.

Negi-san floated at eye-level. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Fine," she answered. "What's the fastest way out of here?"

"Come this way."

Madoka grabbed a torch and followed the bounding creature.

--

"Not too bad," Evangeline decided as the vampire observed Madoka's progress through a scrying crystal. Showing some unexpected ingenuity, the teen had navigated the first two perils. "Let's see how you handle the next one," she chuckled in anticipation.

From behind came the shuffle of sandaled feet across paving stones. Spinning her chair around, the undead mage glared as an uninvited guest emerged from the surrounding gloom. "Your cottage was sealed weeks ago," the headmaster said. "Imagine my surprise to discover somebody had bypassed the wards?"

"Now that you know who it is," she sourly responded, "why don't you go back to that comfy cage of yours old man?"

Gazing over her shoulder, Konoemon frowned. "Don't you ever tire of this, hrmm, boot-camp-from-hell approach?"

"It's the only way these dolts learn anything," Evangeline countered. "If you don't like my methods, then get them another trainer. Maybe Seruheiko-san can start earning that fabulous salary Mahora pays its teachers."

"Are you complaining about being underpaid?"

"You can't pay enough for suffering through those weekly, team-building meetings," the little vampire snorted and then fixed him with a steely gaze. "How long have you known Kugimiya-san can augment magic?"

Konoemon stared back with a gaze just as willful. "I didn't until you confirmed it just now," the headmaster told her. "I suspected something of the sort after the class trip; however it could have been Misa-kun just as easily."

"Do all those girls possess a talent?"

"Yes," he admitted. "But it's difficult to determine what is magic and what is personality. I have seen, hrmm, Satsuki-kun calm a group of overwrought students and have lost count of the number of wayward children Chizuru-kun has, hee, set upon the correct path."

As he continued with examples, Evangeline was forced to re-evaluate her former classmates. Looking past their typical, adolescent chatter and antics, one could see how talented each of the girls was.

"Whether magical in nature or not," the old man said, "these students are vital to Mahora's mission."

"So you're going to turn them all into crusaders for truth and justice?" the little vampire scoffed. "Champions for the Mahora way of life?"

"Nothing as prosaic as that," the headmaster answered. "Chao-kun demonstrated just how thin the separation between the magic and non-magic parts of this world has grown. The day is rapidly approaching when the Hidden World can no longer remain secret. Imagine the chaos that will ensue when our existence is exposed. Only by preparing the next generation of leaders can we hope to survive."

"Next generation of leaders?" Evangeline laughed derisively. "Are we talking about the same people? Kasuga-san? The Narutaki twins?"

"Each of your former classmates is poised to enter a profession that has, hee, the potential to influence vast numbers of people," he explained. "Business, technology, internet, entertainment, religion, education and the list goes on."

"So you're going to turn them into brainless puppets, eager to do your bidding," Evangeline accused. "You're worse than Chao-san ever was."

"No, mindless puppets would only serve to confirm all the worst suspicions about mages," Konoemon replied. "We need leaders who are aware of magic and can, hm, hm, make sound decisions based on that knowledge."

Speechlessly the mage known and feared as the Dark Evangel stared at the crazy, old man she held so much contempt for. Konoe had the power to have made himself into a tyrant, able to enforce his will on others; yet he had chosen a different path, that of an educator. "You're a damned idealist."

"Power for its own sake, hee, is a mirage," the man responded. "Ideals are the only things worth fighting for."

Before she could launch a retort, Konoemon glanced over her shoulder at the crystal ball. "Most interesting," he commented.

Swiveling her chair about, a gasp escaped as she beheld Madoka's third challenge.

--

The white mouse stopped before a stairway and turned towards her. "This is as far as I can take you."

"Thank you," Madoka replied. Hands reached out to hold the bobbing mouse as she planted a kiss on the side of the creature's velvet-soft face. In response, Negi's cheeks flared red in spite of its fur. "I hope you won't get in trouble."

"Chiu-sama has probably forgotten all about putting you in the dungeon by now," the servitor mouse replied. "Take care. This is a dangerous place."

Floating like a balloon pushed along by a vagrant breeze, Madoka watched Negi drift out of sight. A set of stone steps spiraled upwards. Holding her torch aloft, the teen cautiously began ascending. Inside the twisting stairway, air was warm and stagnant; combined with the torch's heat, it caused sweat to trickle down her face and neck. Higher and higher she climbed as the stifling atmosphere made breathing harder. Finally, she exited the claustrophobic space to find herself in a chamber larger than any encountered so far.

Statues of women filled the room. Each crafted in intricate detail from the same chalk-white substance. Some were posed demurely while others displayed a wanton sensuality that made Madoka want to avert her gaze. One particular statue caught her eye. A woman in the act of disrobing stood with her bare breasts thrust forward. Carved nipples were blatantly erect and the facial expression was one of blissful ecstasy.

Unable to tear her gaze away from it, the girl bumped into a body of warm, yielding flesh. Whirling about, she came face to face with her homeroom teacher. "Markham-sensei," she gasped.

"Madoka," he cried in response. A pleased smile appeared on the man's face as his hands clasped her shoulders.

"Oh sensei," she nearly sobbed in relief. "How did you get here?"

"I don't know," Phillip answered in a puzzled tone. "But it doesn't matter; only being here with you matters now."

"We need to keep moving," she breathlessly explained. "Have to escape this place."

"Why?" He gave her an amused grin. "If we escape, we go back to the way things were."

Arms snaked about her waist as amusement transformed into desire. "Staying here means we can be together," her teacher said as his face drew closer. "Like this."

"Mister Markhammmm." Insistent lips covered hers, muffling Madoka's objections. Senses were in freefall as only the feel of the man's arms, mouth and the pressure of his chest against her registered. She wanted him the girl realized as a cry of protest turned into a moan of pleasure. A hand glided down and rubbed across the back of her uniform skirt as a tongue darted between her parted lips. "Surrender," a part of her cried out. "Surrender and you can stay together forever."

Madoka's face was flushed and the teen was aware of heat building where sensei's body pressed against. Fingers slipped under her skirt and probed the smooth skin beneath. Lips glided down her neck and teeth clamped down on a soft fold of flesh. Nipples swelled as they rubbed against the uniform's fabric, just like the statue's. 'Just like the statue's!'

Pushing away, the girl found herself staring into lidless, blue eyes set into a pasty white face. "Madoka," the creature hissed as coils shifted across the floor. The serpent-man moved as if to embrace her but drew back in panic as the girl swung a torch at its face.

Madoka backed away from the monster, keeping it at bay with the flames. "Please Madoka," it pleaded in a piteous voice. Turning, she ran out the nearest exit with the creature's voice echoing "Stay with me, my love."

--

**School Gymnasium, Mahora Japan**

Seconds ticked off the clock as the third and deciding game of the dodgeball match wound down to its tense conclusion. After the Mahora team easily took the first match, the players from the Arisu Academy in Tokyo regrouped to win the second game and enjoyed a two to one advantage. Asuna calmly stood on her side of the court, silently taunting her opponents to do more than wait out the remaining time. A quiet crowd anxiously watched as the two girls cautiously approached the center line, taking care to keep their distance from one another.

As arms cocked back, Asuna dashed forward and hurled her ball, striking one of the opponents whose return shot went wild. The other player hesitated a moment before throwing, allowing the dangerous baka red enough time to recover. Catching the ball, the Mahora team captain heaved it back and the ball bounced off her opponent's hip as the buzzer sounded. Students, teachers and parents broke into a loud cheer.

Misa glanced over at the bench where her friend sat, gamely shaking a pair of pom-poms in celebration. After the pep talk from Ishikawa-sensei, Madoka had regained her enthusiasm, leaping about with more energy than was normal. In fact the dark-haired girl had seemed so much recovered that Misa decided they would try out the new routine. The toss went off better than in practice, with the girl soaring high into the air, but there must have been a wet spot on the floor. Upon landing, the cheerleader's feet slid out in opposite directions in an inadvertent case of the splits. While the audience roared its approval, Misa could see the expression of pain.

"Are you feeling better?" she asked.

"I'm fine," Madoka answered. "Really."

"Do you want to go do some karaoke?" Misa asked. "I'm going to meet my boyfriend and he's bringing along a couple of his buddies."

Madoka looked hesitant and bit her bottom lip as if trying to decide how to reply.

"I know you have this thing for our teacher," Misa said. "But you shouldn't spend your whole life waiting for sensei to notice you."

"Well, I was thinking that I, uh, don't have a lot of experience with, um, boys," the girl stammered in embarrassment. "And I was wondering if maybe you could, ah, give me some pointers."

Misa responded to the admission with an indulgent smile as she thought to herself 'it's about time'. "Of course I'd be happy to," she replied. "Let's go grab our stuff from the lockers."

--

**Granicus, Mundus Magicus**

Tiny clicks filled the air in staccato-like bursts as furred fingers rapidly pressed down control buttons. A single wire connected the candy-heart pink colored game player to a bearded man chained to a chair. The captive writhed in response to each click as drops of spittle flecked the man's whiskered chin.

"Hold up Brunello," Rufus told his associate. Yellow teeth bared as wolfish lips pulled back into a grin. "You could save us all a lot of trouble by cooperating."

"I don't mind," the bear-man commented. "I could play all day."

"We know he contacted you," Rufus continued, ignoring the gamer's remarks. "We know he left through the Mesembrian Gate and showed up in Kyoto."

Leaning in close to the man's face, his muzzle a mere hand's breadth away, the wolf-man demanded, "What are the Thousand Master's plans."

"Up … yours … furry," Dolnegus gasped.

Rufus' hand raked across the side of the prisoner's face, leaving three, long scratches on the man's cheek. Blood welled from the cuts as the thug stood. "Have it your way then."

Dolnegus grimaced in pain as the game resumed.

--

**A/N: Chapter title and heading are from Thomas Malory's 'The Death of Arthur.'**

**Ostendo means reveal in Latin.**

**While Asuna never joined a sports club in the manga, I figured she probably switched from the Art Club since Takahata-san wouldn't be the advisor for the High School level. **


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: And so Madoka's quest continues. This and the previous chapter are for Rose, whose own adventure has just begun.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Phillip Markham and Sasuki Hiro are my OCs.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words"**, **'thoughts'**, "spells" **

--

**Welcome to the Grand Illusion**

_Welcome to the Grand Illusion … pay the price, get your ticket for the show __**– Dennis Deyoung**_

**Castle Lebens Schuld**

Footsteps echoed as Madoka trotted down the castle passageway, glancing over her shoulder every few steps. Torchlight flickered against the walls as the high school student shuddered despite their warmth. Having accepted that she was infatuated with her homeroom teacher, the teen hadn't been prepared for the emotions the previous encounter had roused within her. How many dreams had she had over the past month where sensei did such things? Never had the girl responded in that manner. It was as if she had lost all control, and that was frightening.

So wrapped up in her thoughts, Madoka hadn't noticed the exit ahead until her torch flared from a gust of air. However, instead of offering an escape from the castle, the cheerleader entered a courtyard enclosed by high walls with a set of stairs leading upwards at the far end.

A wooden crate rested in the yard's center, its top pierced by five holes. Her classmate, Asuna, stared down at the crate as if waiting while grasping an enormous mallet. Though burning with curiosity, Madoka decided against drawing attention to herself. Cautiously, the teen edged behind Asuna as the other girl muttered, "Come on out. I know you're in there twerp."

A white, furred head poked out of the center hole and in a flash the mallet swung down upon Negi's pet ermine. As a sickening thump sounded, Madoka clasped both hands over her mouth to keep from crying out at the unexpected brutality.

"So much for you, you little pervert," the bell-wearing girl gloated while lifting her gore-splattered weapon. "Your turn's next bozu."

As if on cue, their former teacher's head emerged from the left-most hole and Madoka screamed "No! Don't do it!"

Distracted by her cry, Asuna's blow was too slow to strike the boy. "Damn it Kugimi!" her frustrated classmate shouted as the boy's head disappeared into the box. "You made me miss!"

Both school blazer and skirt were flecked with several, tiny stains. 'Mad,' the dark-haired girl thought. 'She's gone totally mad.'

"Why Asuna-san?" Madoka asked aloud. "Why hurt Negi-kun?"

"Because that little creep ruined my life," the red-faced student yelled back. "I use to be a normal girl living a normal life until he showed up. No entering martial arts tournaments, no disappearing for months at a time, no talk about being a princess. I can't even decide who I care more about anymore and he's the cause."

As Negi's head rose up, Asuna screeched, "I hate him." Madoka rushed forward and grabbed hold of her classmate's arm, preventing the mallet from crushing the boy teacher. Hanging from the other girl's arm, she was pulled from her feet as Asuna kept trying to shake her free and pound the boy into pulp. Flung away, the cheerleader thumped to the ground as a shout of "Gotcha" indicated a successful strike.

Madoka expected to see Negi's bloody remains, but when Asuna lifted her mallet, both girls gaped at Takahata-sensei's face. Horrified, she watched as Asuna wailed "Noooo!" and then spun on her with murderous intent.

"This is your fault," her enraged classmate screamed. "You're responsible."

Using both hands, baka red raised the mallet high and then brought it down. An earth-shattering kaboom sounded as the weapon struck. After the dust settled, Asuna gazed down at the impact crater but found no sign of the other girl. Rolling away at the last moment, Madoka had avoided the blow and was racing for the stairs.

Never one of the stronger performers during gym classes, fear lent extra speed as she reached the steps and started climbing three at a time. Golden sparkles appeared upon the edges of her vision, however, Madoka was in no mood to give them any thought; she had to get away. Asuna bashed the mallet against the base of the stairs, sending a tremble that knocked the fleeing girl from her feet.

Madoka fell forward and heard the rending of stone. Desperately she scrambled up the remaining steps as the stairway crumbled. Glancing down into the courtyard, the teen observed Asuna climbing the rubble. The dark-haired student quickly darted into an open passage and ran for all she was worth.

The passage soon opened into another room that resembled a feasting hall from medieval times. Bare tables and benches were lined up in neat rows on either side of the Grand Hall, while colorful banners hung from the walls.

Seated in a throne-like chair in front of the exit was Ku Fei. The martial artist was munching nikuman, pulling one after another from wicker baskets. Dozens of empty baskets were scattered around the throne. A club leaned against a nearby wall, within easy reach of the Chinese girl. The club was more than two meters long and its lower half was iron shod with little spikes projecting out at random places.

"Hello Madoka-san," Ku happily called out.

"Hello," she cautiously replied, still listening for sounds of pursuit. "I'm trying to get out of this castle. Is that the exit behind you?"

"Sure," Ku Fei answered between bites. Stopping to lick bits of sticky dough from tanned fingers, the blonde-haired girl grinned broadly. "But you pay troll first."

"Pay troll?" Madoka responded. "Er, don't you mean toll?

"No, I mean pay troll," her fellow student said. Ku Fei's form started to swell like a balloon, skin grew red while hair turned from golden yellow to black. A horned oni sat where the Chinese girl had been, but its voice remained unchanged as the troll growled, "It costs nikuman to pass."

Rising from the throne, the oni stretched nearly from floor to ceiling. "Lots of nikuman," Ku Fei said while hefting the club and swinging it.

Madoka thought it swished as loudly as a diesel truck passing by. "I don't have any nikuman."

"Then you no pass," the nightmarish creature told her.

Like a storm rushing towards her, the shout of "I'll kill you Kugimi" echoed from behind. Heedless of the danger in front of her, Madoka dashed for the exit. Asuna thundered into the hall, still clutching the bloody mallet, while the oni pulled back on the club as easily as baseball bat. Diving to the floor, the teen scuttled past the transformed Ku Fei as weapon clashed against weapon. Once more the girl was running down a passageway, leaving the din of battle behind with every stride.

--

A scene of the girl fleeing showed within the crystal. One could ascribe her pupil's escape to dumb luck, but the image shown laid bare that lie. Had Madoka not ducked at just that critical moment, Asuna's weapon would have pounded the teen flat. As it was, the mallet and kanabo collided against each other letting the girl scuttle away unscathed. Unconsciously done or not, it indicated that skills existed to be honed.

"Ho, hm," the headmaster muttered. "She has potential."

Her brow twitching in anger, Evangeline turned to face her unwelcomed guest. "Now that we've had our little chat, why don't you go find a dark corner to quietly gather dust in?"

"But I'm admiring your handiwork," Konoemon admitted. "I've never seen such a detailed Phantasmagoria spell before."

"It's nothing special," the vampire countered, though the other's praise brought a tiny flicker of pleasure. Casting a complex, programmed illusion on short notice was an achievement few could boast of being able to perform. "So don't bother buttering me up."

"Modesty, hee, ill suits you," the wily old mage responded. "I am rather disappointed though to see you resort to, hm, hm, clichés."

"Clichés!" she screeched, outraged by his comment. "I'd like to see you do better!"

--

'What kind of sick, twisted mind would create such a test,' Madoka wondered as she continued trotting down the passageway. 'The type of mind possessed by an undead, dark mage,' her other self replied. With all that had happened so far this year, the girl shouldn't have been surprised by the revelation that a former classmate was an evil, blood-sucking monster. Thoughts turned to events of the previous year when several students, including Makie-san, were attacked along Sakura Lane. 'Could McDowell-san have been responsible?'

From up ahead, the girl heard sharp, rapid-paced clicks of typing. Stepping into a chamber much smaller than the Great Hall, she found Asakura-san pounding away on a computer keyboard. Not having success with avoiding these encounters, Madoka swallowed and stepped behind the occupied reporter.

"Just a minute," the red-headed student warned as fingers continued to fly over the keys. "There, that does it," Kazumi said as a grin spread across the paparazzi's lips.

Spinning he chair around, the class news hound gave Madoka a smugly satisfied look. "You've been really hopping around with all of these challenges, haven't you Kugimi?"

"I wish you'd all stop calling me that," she hotly replied. "So what challenge are you?"

"Oh, I don't have time for that nonsense," Kazumi answered. "I need to finish my book?"

"Book?"

"Yeah, it's all about my adventures with Negi-bozu and his merry harem," her classmate told her, eyes gleaming with excitement. "It ought to be a best seller. After all, that British woman made millions writing about a boy wizard, and her stuff was all made up."

"Of course, I may have to spice up a scene here and there, like where I make a pactio with bozu," Kazumi continued as fingers thoughtfully rubbed the student's chin. "Sex sells after all."

"But … but you can't do that," Madoka sputtered. "You'll be turned into an ermine for revealing magic."

"Have you ever heard of 'drop dead' money?" the would be author asked. "That's where you have enough money you can tell anyone in the world to 'drop dead'. I'll make enough cash that I won't have to worry about anyone else except number one here."

Madoka gazed on in shocked disbelief. "Why would you do that to Negi-kun and the others? Surely money doesn't mean that much."

"Don't act so 'holier than thou'," the reporter spat back. "Wealth and fame are just as important to you. Why else are you in Dekopin Rocket?"

Stunned speechless by the accusation, she listened as Kazumi continued. "You want the crowd's adulation. You want to be the one on the magazine covers, the one they talk about during class breaks, the one whose face is on their huggable pillows. You want the endorsements … world tours … private jets ... your own anime. Face it Kugimi, you want it all as badly as I do."

"And it is close enough you can reach out and grab it." Eyes shining with a fanatical light snared her attention as the persuasive voice droned on. "You know about magic; use that knowledge."

"Ho … how?"

"The headmaster must know somebody in the industry," the voice explained. "Why not have him get you set up? Or maybe bozu could find you a contact?"

"But why would they do that for me?"

"Because of that Magicus Augeo," came the reply. "You can raise the power of spells. Think about that Kugimi. Think of how valuable that would be for any mage. Negi-bozu needs a permanent partner; why not you?"

"I'm not interested in an eleven year old," Madoka weakly responded.

"I forgot you like more 'mature' men," Kazumi chuckled. "Well when you're sitting at the top, there's no reason not to get what you want. Am I right?"

Success. Wealth. Fame. All of the things that society teaches people to strive for, whether openly or not, danced seductively before the fascinated teen. Madoka's hand reached out as if to pluck the prize, so tantalizingly close, but stopped as another vision intruded. She knelt on the ground, cradling her dead friend's head in her lap. Nearby by lay another friend's mutilated body. Hand dropped to the girl's side as her face hardened in determination.

"No," she declared. "Other things are more important than money."

"How delightfully naïve," Kazumi laughed. "You look so cute when you strike that noble martyr's pose."

Laughter was cut short as Madoka's fist crunched into the report's nose, sending the other girl crashing to the floor. Blood trickled down her classmates' astonished face as Kazumi wordlessly watched her walk away.

--

Stairs led her to the castle's top most tower. A star-filled sky twinkled through tall, arched windows as the teen walked between two lines of columns. Water continued to roar as it rushed over the myriad falls outside, and the jungle's perfume hung heavily about her. Ahead, the causeway to the platform Madoka had arrived on gleamed a ghostly white in the surrounding gloom.

Cautiously, the girl moved between the rows of columns when a far too familiar voice asked, "You don't think you're getting away that easily do you?"

From out of the shadows stepped a sinister figure. Bits of light flitted between the fingers of a clenched fist. Madoka stared intently as the teen's duplicate released a ball of light that hung suspended in the chamber. Her copy wore an outfit consisting of a yukata, complete with wide sleeves, cut off at the waist, topping a ruffled skirt that ended mid-thigh. Platform heeled boots scraped across stones as the doppelganger blocked the exit. "You have to get past me to win."

Golden sparkles appeared on the edges of Madoka's vision as the student stared at her strangely garbed self. "I don't suppose you'll let me pass?"

"Not a chance," the other Madoka answered as a fierce grin spread across her double's face. "I've been waiting too long for this chance."

"What chance is that?"

"Why to be free of course," her copy told her. "I'm that part of you that craves excitement, to live life at full throttle; yet every time things start to get a little fun, you cut me off at the knees and shove me into the background."

"I'm sick of listening to your incessant whining. I'm tired of you making all the decisions. And I'm going to put an end to it." Some of the sparkles gathered around the copy's outstretched hand and coalesced into a lethal looking dagger. "When I kill you, I'll be the one in charge."

Madoka dodged to the side as her double lunged forward. Pain shot along her arm as the blade's edge sliced into her flesh. Blood oozed from the wound as the pair began to circle each other. She racked her brain trying to think of a way to defeat her opponent, but without either weapon or magic, both of which the other girl possessed, there didn't seem to be a way.

Again the double rushed her but lashed out with a foot that smashed into Madoka's stomach, knocking her off her feet. In a flash, the doppelganger has straddled her chest as raised the dagger high as more of the sparkles danced about. Desperately, the cheerleader reached out and grabbed hold of the other's arm, keeping the dagger's point from her throat. While they struggled, the teen noted how much more solid her flesh appeared than her copy's.

'She's a spell,' Madoka instantly realized. The little motes flared to a blinding intensity in response and then vanished, leaving her alone in the chamber. Not sure what happened, the girl got to her feet and staggered across the causeway to collapse on the platform with its carved patterns. Darkness faded as this world's sun began its long, slow climb across the sky.

Two figures exited the castle and marched towards where she laid. The first was the little girl-vampire, Evangeline. Accompanying her was the school's headmaster. Battered and exhausted, the student merely watched as they halted in front of her.

"Well done Madoka-kun," Konoemon said as Evangeline looked on with a disgusted expression. "How do you feel?"

"Like I've been tossed about by the ocean and finally washed up on shore," she answered. "What happened back there?"

"At a guess, hmm, I would say the Magicus Augeo happened," the old man replied. "If you think of spells as an electric system, only so much energy can be contained within them. I believe you pushed the spell past its capacity, and like an overloaded circuit, caused it to short out."

"So does this mean I passed the test Ishikawa-sensei?" she asked.

Madoka could see the shock register in Evangeline's face at her question. "No never mind," the undead mage said. "We'll talk later."

As Evangeline told her "You pass," she thought a slight smile played across the blonde vampire's mouth.

--

**Girl's Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

Standing before the dormitory advisor's office, Madoka raised her hand and then paused. While the high school student readily admitted that she liked sensei, her reactions during the test left the girl unsure of how much deeper than like those feelings ran. Remembering the desire to surrender completely to Mister Markham brought a shiver down her spine.

"Come on Madoka," an unsteady voice tried to reassure. "You can do this."

Rapping three times on the door, the girl still dressed in her cheerleader's uniform waited with baited breath for the teacher to answer. Light poured from beneath the door that then swung inwards. Phillip stood in the doorway, dressed in only a pair of gym shorts, and stared through heavily-lidded eyes. Running a hand from his forehead to the back of his head, the man yawned and then asked, "What is it Madoka-san?"

"I'm late checking-in sensei," she answered while thrusting a slip of paper towards him. "The headmaster authorized me to be out."

Puzzled, the man stared down at the note. "I don't understand. You came in earlier."

As Phillip glanced up from the paper to her face, Madoka observed a slight start of surprise. "What's the matter?" the girl asked, suddenly self-conscious.

"Nothing," her teacher answered. "Go on to your room and we'll catch the paperwork up in the morning."

A metallic ring sounded with every step the student took up the stairwell. 'What did sensei mean I'd already been in?' her tired mind asked. 'I've been out since Ishikawa-sensei …'

The proverbial bulb switched on as the name "Himeiko-san" hissed from between her lips. Madoka dashed up the remaining flights to the fifth floor where her room was. Keys jingled as she frantically inserted one after another until she found the right one. Flipping on the lights, she glanced about but only found her roommate, Misa, fast asleep on the bottom bunk.

Breathing easier, the girl headed towards the tiny bath with its closet-sized shower. Halfway across, Madoka noted a crumpled shape on the floor that turned out to be one of the girl's nightshirts. 'I thought I put that away,' she thought while retrieving it and then continued into the bath. After stripping off the sweaty uniform, she twisted a shower knob and was waiting for the water to heat up when she found it. A tiny, tell-tale bruise on the side of the cheerleader's neck reflected back in the mirror.

"That's what sensei saw," she groaned as the door opened and a weary looking Misa stumbled in.

"I figured you'd be sleeping in," her friend remarked as fists rubbed against eyes. "That was some night?"

She could only stare in confusion as the other girl continued. "You really surprised me tonight Madoka," Misa said. "I'm going to have to remember to try that last one on my boyfriend."

"Um Misa, I was out training with Ishikawa-sensei," she replied as confusion became concern. "When she called me during the break, we left the gymnasium. I just got back less than 10 minutes ago."

"Then who?" her fellow cheerleader started to say and then fell quiet. Pushing past her, Misa turned both facets on full force. Squirting soap from the dispenser, her roommate began to vigorously scrub face and hands. A million questions sprang to life within Madoka's mind; however she wasn't certain she wanted to know any of the answers.

--

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

Strolling back to his assigned cottage, Professor Akashi smiled as he recalled the morning spent in Cycilia's company. What with students, research projects and a teenage daughter, the middle aged mage rarely had time to relax and enjoy himself. He hadn't been broom riding in years and their flight around Ariadne had awakened old passions.

Speaking of passions, the attractive news reporter raised another as well, and the professor felt a pang of guilt in response. Eight years ago his wife had died, the victim of a hit-and-run accident. In the time since, the grief-stricken widower hadn't thought of other women. 'I suppose I have Yuna to thank for that,' he considered.

Last summer, while he was reporting his findings to Donet McGuiness, the girl had mistaken their meeting for a romantic rendezvous. Yuna hadn't known about the hidden world then, and in finding her father with a beautiful woman had assumed they were dating. His daughter had even gone so far as to grant the couple her blessing, causing both he and Donet to break out in laughter. Still, the experience opened his eyes to the possibility of another relationship.

Yet he truly did have little time to devote to building a new relationship. Becoming an active field agent again would mean he'd have even less. Men like Professors Gandofini and Nijuin were married and had children, so it was possible. However, it would take a very understanding and supportive woman to make it work, a woman like Rikku.

Fishing the key out of his pocket, Akashi touched the crystal to the door to open it. As the mage stepped into the living room, he felt another's presence. A moment later, his associate walked out of the bedroom with bags in hand. "Afternoon sensei," the younger man said. "I've finished packing."

"So you've decided to go back to the Mundus Vetus?"

"Doesn't seem to be much good I can do around here."

"I can still use an extra set of eyes and ears," the professor said.

"I'm sure the headmaster will send a more palatable replacement," the assassin replied.

"I'm not sorry for what I did last night," Akashi confessed, "but I did let anger override my better sense. You've proven helpful so far and I'd like for you to continue."

"Can you trust a hired killer?"

Akashi thought back to his years in the field. He had worked shoulder to shoulder with gun runners, mercenary soldiers, demons and their lawyers. "Perhaps it would help if I knew who you were," he said while extending a hand in greeting. "My name is Akashi Yuji, professor of computer sciences and mage."

His partner hesitated but finally took hold of the professor's hand. "Sasuki Hiro," the younger man responded. "I'm an assassin."

"As an agent for the Kanto Magic Association, I know why I'm here," he told Hiro. "How did you get mixed up in this?"

"I was hired to murder one of your daughter's classmates and decided I didn't want to after all," Hiro answered as they broke contact. "You know how that turned out. When I woke up, Konoe-sama was at my bedside. The old man said he had a use for my skills and made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"After recovering, he sent me to spy on another mage. This guy had put a contract out and I infiltrated his organization using my profession as cover."

"This wouldn't be the Cabal Magicus would it?" Akashi asked.

"Could be sensei," Hiro answered evasively. "Anyway, after the hit was made, I hung around for a little while to gather more information and then this job came up."

A suspicion began to take shape in the mage's mind. "Who was the contract on?"

"I can't answer that professor," the assassin responded. "But everything I did was with the headmaster's full knowledge and permission."

Akashi shook his head. "Is this ever messed up," he muttered.

"You still want me to hang around?" Hiro asked.

"I do," he answered. "By the way, I was with Miss Sevensheep this morning and she had some information for you. Why are you interested in Joseph Dolnegus?"

"Well I guess that's something else we need to clear up," the younger man said. "It all started with trying to get access to a laboratory …"

--

Arn Magnusson sat in the small office the school deigned to give the fencing master. Ignoring the slight to the prestige of his family's name was no mean feat, however the situation was made tolerable by proximity to the city's centers of power. Being an ear for the Brethren had been a galling but necessary chore. Much of the information he had gathered had been useful to furthering their plans. Hunched over the pocket watch, he waited for the brethren to reply to his findings.

Memories replayed with a clarity undimmed by time. Then 16 years old, the son of Olaf Magnusson stood in Ariadne's Civic Hall as the war council deliberated whether to throw their support to the Crimson Wing or not. Nagi Springfield and his band had come begging for the assistance of the city's famed Mage Knights in the final battle against Total World's followers. Courtesy and restraint began to fray as the debate raged on. It was on the fourth day that Kozimos Anankaios found him.

Among the Crimson Wing, Kozimos was the least known figure to the public. No mention was ever made of his past or his relationship within the group, although some whispered that Springfield had referred to the mysterious wizard as "master."

"You are the son of Olaf Magnusson are you not," the white-haired mage asked, speaking with a foreign accent that Arn never did place.

"Yes, I am Arn Magnusson," the teen respectfully answered. "How may I help you Master Anankaios?"

"I've come to enlist your aid in the struggle against Total World," came the reply.

"That is for the council to decide is it not?"

"They will only decide to support this coming battle or not," Kozimos answered. "I want you to help me with the true war."

"I'm afraid I don't understand."

"Few people understand the danger Total World represents," the strange mage told him. "Many believe they seek mere world domination."

"Don't they?"

"Only in so far as it supports their real aims," the stranger replied. "What they are working for is nothing less than the return of the being known as the Mage of the Beginning to our world."

"Surely you are jesting with me," Arn had insisted. "The Mage of the Beginning is only a legend."

A small grin appeared as the other man responded, "Oh no, young Magnusson. The Mage of the Beginning is as real as you or I."

"In the myths surrounding the Mundus Magicus' creation are mentions of a being who willed the world into existence," Kozimos continued. "This is of course the Mage of the Beginning, a spirit that creates only to wipe the slate clean in order to create anew."

"Why would anyone seek the return of a creature such as that?"

"The members of Total World are zealous fanatics who worship the Mage of the Beginning as their god," the child-like mage explained. "They believe it is their sacred duty to continue our world's cycle of birth, death and rebirth."

"What is it you hope from me?" Arn asked. "I doubt I can dissuade my father from arguing for neutrality."

"When the Founders banished the Mage of the Beginning, they were assisted by a group of devoted followers," the other man responded. "These faithful ones swore the most powerful vows to help banish the Mage of the Beginning and to prevent her return by whatever means possible. Though the enemy has corrupted the Teotanasian bloodline, we remain to frustrate their plans. I ask you to join with us Arn Magnusson, to add the strength of your hands to ours and fulfill our duty."

Master Anankaios had told him many other things during the following days, finally convincing the teen of the importance of his mission. At the final battle of Ostia, while the Thousand Master fought hand to hand against that monster, it was the white-haired wizard who finally sealed their enemy away within the body of a little girl designed to be the spirit's vessel. Few knew that the great mage sacrificed his own body to complete the ritual. An uncomprehending public never showered accolades upon the battle's rightful hero, preferring instead to cast them upon the survivors. But the Brethren knew and continued their vigil.

A feather-like touch of another's mind brushing against his caused Arn to snap to attention. –May the light of truth shine upon you, - the distant voice said.

'And also on you Brother,' Arn completed the ritual greeting. 'What is your decision?'

-Your information cannot be confirmed at this time, - the other answered, -but after much consultation, it is decided that the best course of action is to liquidate both men.-

'What are my constraints?'

-None save do it in a manner that attracts the least amount of attention, - was the welcomed news. -May the light shine upon you.-

'And also on you.'

Arn broke contact and slumped back in the chair, a fierce grin on his face. 'At last!' he exulted as plans began to form. Perhaps the rest of the Faithful were realizing the need for immediate action. When presented with the plan for permanently severing the gateways, the swordsman had argued against it. What good to cut off the gates when the vessel still lived? Better to send people to the Mundus Vetus and kill the little bitch once and for all. Though out voted, he had not given up on the idea. Once these two nuisances had been dealt with, he might be able to convince them to slay the princess after all.

--

**A/N: A phantasmagoria was a type of show where images of ghosts, skeletons and other things that go bump in the night were projected onto walls to entertain audiences.**

**Chapter heading and title are from the song by Styx.**


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: At last! A turning point has been reached and the end is in sight (uh, second arc folks). I feel like celebrating. Hoo-ray! Now with that out of my system, let's get on with the story. **

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negi and the characters therein as well as Kimiaki Shirai from Love Hina. I am using Ayase Seika and Yukihiro Osachi as names for relatives of Yue and Ayaka respectively. The name Sachi was given by MakuhariFan01 as the given name for the nekomimi character S du Chat. Other characters have been created by me.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', "**spells**"

--

**Turning of the Season**

**To everything turn, turn, turn … there is a season turn, turn, turn … and a time for every purpose under heaven –** Pete Seeger

**Tokyo, Japan**

As the expected moment drew closer, Tsuwabuki checked over her preparations once more. Her favorite grandson was bringing his young lady over this afternoon, and everything, from the carefully laid out tea service to the arrangement of flowers on the tokonoma, had to be right. Though she knew this day would come, that knowledge left her ill prepared. Introducing one's potential spouse to family was nerve wracking under the best of circumstances; however, the frail-looking woman considered these circumstances as less than optimal.

Shirai-kun seemed quite taken with the girl, excitedly gushing whenever he spoke of her. And the Konoe family occupied the highest tier in social standings. 'Much too high,' Tsuwabuki thought. But that family's history was replete with power struggles and dynastic intrigues. Further, Konoe Konoka was the likely heir to her grandfather's position as head of the Kanto Magic Association. Her grandson knew nothing of magic; how could she allow a total innocent to get involved in such matters?

Ancient floorboards creaked as her husband Soemu's wheelchair rolled down the hallway. Voices swiftly followed on its heels. Soemu appeared first with Shirai dutifully pushing his grandfather's chair forward. Behind them followed a smiling girl with chocolate brown hair. Thought disengaged as she stared into the young lady's face.

"Grandmother," Shirai said, "I'd like to introduce you to Konoe Konoka."

Konoka responded with a polite bow. "It is an honor to meet you."

An awkward silence reigned as the old woman continued to stare. Anxious voices called out. "Grandmother?" "Dearest?" "Kimiaki-san?"

All at once the room began to spin wildly, like one of those carnival rides that pushed you against the wall of a rotating drum. And then, the floor dropped out from beneath her feet. Both young people quickly grasped an arm and eased her to a cushion.

"Are you alright grandmother?" Shirai asked while the girl offered to call an ambulance.

"I'm … I'm fine," she finally managed to reply in a horse whisper. But the world was anything but fine as Tsuwabuki gazed at her dead sister's face.

--

"It's uncanny," Shirai said as he and Konoka looked at black and white photos of the Aisaka family.

"I'm so very sorry for upsetting you," the brown-haired girl apologized.

"Please don't worry about it," Tsuwabuki said. "You can hardly be held responsible for resembling Say-chan."

Lifting a cup to her lips, Tsuwabuki took a sip, letting the tea work its calming effect. Shock over seeing her not-so-departed sister's features on the other girl's face had faded enough for the woman to function again. Konoe-san wasn't an exact copy of Sayo, but their appearances were close enough to raise doubts on ascribing it to coincidence.

"Is that your father Kimiaki-san?" The girl pointed to a picture of a man wearing an Imperial Navy dress uniform.

"Yes," she answered. "That was taken when he was appointed as the commandant of the Mahora Normal School for Boys, what you would refer to as High School."

"When was this?" the teen asked.

"That would have been the spring of 1938." Tsuwabuki could imagine little wheels turning as the girl tried to count back the years. "You might find the picture on the next page of particular interest."

Quickly the page was turned, revealing a photograph of three boys dressed in gakuran-style uniforms with matching black caps. "Are these relatives of yours?" Konoka asked.

"No, they are three of my father's most gifted students," Tsuwabuki answered. "The boy on the left was Ayase Seika, the noted philosopher, and the one in the center was Yukihiro Osachi."

"Osachi-kun's family controlled an influential zaibatsu," she continued. "And that boy with the bushy eyebrows was a young man by the name of Konoemon."

It was the girl's turn to stare in astonishment. Words tried to form as Konoka's mouth moved, but no sound came out. Stifling her own amusement, Tsuwabuki added, "Although we always called him Ko-kun."

The rest of the afternoon went off without incident and despite her misgivings, Tsuwabuki couldn't help but be charmed their guest. Her husband glanced down at his watch and announced, "I'm expecting a delivery for the shop. Please excuse me for a little while."

"Shirai-kun," she said, "Would you please give your grandfather a hand?"

After the two men departed, Tsuwabuki asked Konoka point blank, "What do you see in my grandson?"

"P-pardon?" the girl stammered.

"As his grandmother, I think the world of Shirai-kun," the woman answered. "But I know he isn't considered a handsome man, nor is he wealthy or well-connected. Why would someone like yourself be attracted to him?"

"No, he's not those things," Konoka hesitantly admitted, "but neither is he vain, boastful or boorish. He treats me like an equal, someone to talk to rather than down upon."

Brown eyes gazed outward, seeming to fix upon a point outside the apartment. "There have been so many o-miai's that I can't count the number of potential husbands I've met," the high school student explained with a mournful edge to her voice. "When they look at me, I don't know who they see."

"But when Shirai-san looks, I know he sees me," she said. Conviction reflected in the girl's eyes as Konoka gazed back at her hostess. "I don't know if that constitutes enough for a marriage, but that makes your grandson very special to me."

"Thank you for your honesty Konoe-san," Tsuwabuki said as she plucked a rose bud from a nearby vase. "Let me return your honesty."

Magical energy, gentle as a spring breeze, flowed up her arm and into the flower. Petals opened in response to her unchanted spell. Wordlessly, she handed the rose over and to her surprise, Konoka snapped its stem just below the bloom. Power flowed from the youngster's porcelain-like fingers, mending the damage done to the plant.

A smile suddenly slipped past the old woman's guard as a beam of sunlight broke through the clouds of years gone by. "Perhaps you'll do after all young lady."

"Do for what?" Konoka asked.

"Heal my family's wounds."

--

Walking arm in arm, the couple turned down the street leading to the train station. It had been an incredible day Shirai thought, but then any day he saw Konoka was incredible. Unable to find a movie that interested either, they had spent the evening bowling. No doubt the young programmer's coworkers would consider him terribly unimaginative, but it was enjoyable none the less. Fortunately, Konoka wasn't any better at the sport than he was. Only one thing marred this otherwise perfect day.

"Why the frown," the girl at his side asked.

"I'm concerned about my grandmother," Shirai answered. "She's having these episodes of freezing up in the middle of a conversation."

"Well, she did receive a nasty shock on meeting me," Konoka pointed out. "Anyone might have reacted that way."

"I realize that, but I'll be taking with her on the phone and it will happen," he said. "I don't know what to do if she came down with Alzheimer's or something."

"I have a feeling that both of your grandparents will be fine." Konoka smiled at him and Shirai's troubles seemed to evaporate in its glow. He stared in amazement at the simple lifting of the corners of the girl's mouth. How could such a small gesture totally change his mood?

Up near the station's doors waited his date's classmates. Setsuna he remembered, but the other teen's name escaped him. Shirai had been surprised by their presence when he met Konoka earlier, but she explained that with Mahora was such a distance away it was safer travelling in a group. During the day, the couple kept running across one or both friends, raising his suspicions that they were being stalked by the other pair.

"Se-chan! Asuna!" she shouted out to get their attention. "Over here!"

"What would you think if I moved to Mahora?" Shirai suddenly asked.

"I'd love to be able to see you more often," Konoka answered. "But what about your job and friends?"

"But having to travel back and forth is such an imposition on you."

"Coming to visit you isn't an imposition." Again she turned that devastating smile on and all of the young man's complaints melted away.

A quick kiss on the cheek and she boarded the carriage with her friends. After watching the train pull away, he walked back down the street to catch the inter-city line. Strains of a violin floated towards him as Shirai noted a street musician performing outside of his connecting station. She was pretty, maybe 18 or 19, with long, brown hair. Pausing to listen, he was struck by how mournful her melody was. After placing a 500 Yen bill in the hat by the girl's feet, he continued on his way.

"I wonder why she never opened her eyes," Shirai thought as he started down the steps.

**--**

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

A shadow crossed the ground, perfectly matching the cloud's motion in front of an imaginary sun above. Outside the building holding Ariadne's menagerie of exotic creatures, the temperature was rapidly falling towards freezing; however, the inside was as pleasant as a spring day. Multi-colored pebbles, smooth as river stones, formed a winding trail past carefully landscaped settings that mimicked each exhibit's preferred habitat.

Oishi halted in front of a mountainous scene and gazed at the two creatures perched upon a rocky ledge. Both had eagle-like bodies, but their heads resembled those of an antelope or deer, including a pair of dark horns jutting out from the tops. Powerful looking wings were folded against backs as the pair constantly scanned the area.

"Are you sure it's safe," the visitor from Mahora asked, concerned about the lack of physical barriers.

"Perfectly," Emily assured her guest. "The enchantments prevent them from perceiving us at all."

"And a good thing too," Daffyd added. "Perytons are known for ripping out their prey's heart as part of their mating rituals."

Hoping to spend some time with his date before the dance, the catalyst mage had shown up early, only to find the vertere waiting too. Since Beatrix wasn't ready, Emily suggested that all three of them visit the menagerie.

"Why are they different colors?"

"Its gender based," Daffyd answered. "Females are green and males blue. Or is it the other way around?"

"You have it right," his date responded.

It was all he could do to not stare at the young girl. How beautiful Emily looked in her long, burgundy-red dress; he ached to hold her close and confess his innermost feelings. Ever since that day the student mage first caught sight of her, Daffyd knew he was hopelessly in love. A love that the teen discovered wouldn't be returned as the object of his affection had already given her heart to serving in the Valkyrie Brigade.

"They look pretty dangerous," Oishi commented.

"Oh they are," the boy agreed. "Being mountain dwellers by nature, they are inured to temperature extremes. Tales say their hides can't be cut by non-magical weapons, but the strangest thing about a peryton is its shadow."

"Why is that?"

Not having many opportunities to show his knowledge off, Daffyd jumped at the chance to explain. "A peryton's shadow stays the same except when they spot prey. Then it is said to transform into a copy of the potential victim. Once it has acquired a shadow, the peryton will never stop until it kills its prey, refusing to eat anything else."

"Sounds like something I wouldn't want to meet in a dark forest," the man remarked.

"Griffins are worse," Emily replied.

"That's right. You fought a griffin before didn't you Emi?"

"My name is Emily not Emi!" she said in a loud voice and then stalked off.

Oishi shrugged his shoulders as set off in pursuit. Daffyd meant to rush after her and apologize, but first glanced back at the perytons. Predatory eyes tracked the couple as they moved away and shadows cast upon the rocks below began to twist until resembling human-like shapes. With a curse, the student mage chased after the pair.

"Heads up!" he shouted as two dark shapes swooped down from above. As the teen dove to the ground, an icy barrier shimmered into existence causing the perytons to bank away.

"This way!" Daffyd shouted as he pointed to a small structure that looked like a concession stand.

Finding the nearer door locked, Emily told them to stand back. Pushing her hand forward, the mage knight cadet shouted "**Resero!**" The door flung open and the group dashed inside.

Oishi braced a shoulder to the door as one of the creatures battered against it. "I thought you said we were perfectly safe."

Daffyd ensured the other door was locked while Emily checked the front awnings. "We were supposed to be," the girl responded. "Those enchantments are foolproof."

"So what do we do now?"

"We hold out here until help arrives," the cadet calmly announced. "The authorities will have been alerted by now."

"By those same spells that were supposed to make us undetectable?"

"I'm afraid I have to agree," Daffyd added as both doors rattled. "If one spell failed, how can we be sure that others won't have?"

"I can handle one of those creatures …" Emily mused aloud.

"I know how good you are," the boy remarked, "but those things are immune to your ice spells."

"I said I can handle it," she angrily countered. "Did you bring any of your catalyst components?"

"To a dance?"

"What's the problem?" Oishi asked.

"I can't cast any effective spells without a catalyst agent," Daffyd explained. "And a single mage fighting both monsters at once is suicide."

"So why not become partners?" the young man suggested.

"Pa-pa-partners?" and "With him?" swiftly followed on its heels.

"Won't a pactio increase Daffyd's power?"

"It won't allow me to suddenly cast spells like a regular mage does," he answered. "Besides a third party has to cast the pactio activation spell."

"Sorry. Just thought it would help."

"It's not like I'd mind," the boy quietly admitted.

"Daffyd," Emily called out in a thoughtful tone. "Can you draw a magic circle without components?"

"That spell's so simple, it doesn't need any," the teen answered and then looked horror-struck as the realization sunk in. "You're not suggesting?"

"I don't think we have a choice," the cadet replied and then glanced about. "Help me move those boxes in front of the door."

After blocking the entry, Daffyd began to trace a series of symbols upon the floor. As each was completed, it glowed with a soft, green light.

"What's he doing?"

"Daffyd is drawing the circle needed for a pactio," Emily reluctantly explained. "As a student of Mahora, I'm sure you understand what a dire emergency this is."

"So what do I …?"

"Once he finishes, you and I step into the circle, face each other, and then activate the contract."

"How do we activate it?"

Daffyd could see his date's face flush as she muttered her answer. His insides heaved at the thought of watching her kiss somebody else. "Done," the boy nearly groaned as the pactio circle was completed. He started to turn his back when Emily reminded him he had to witness their contract.

A green glow filled the chamber as the pair stood toe to toe in the circle. Oishi made as if to kiss the cadet on her forehead causing Emily to shake her head in response. "That way makes a botched contract," the girl informed him as her hands grabbed both sides of his face and pulled down. Their lips met and magical energy rushed up their legs, setting both bodies afire with its brilliance. A rumble, not unlike the roll of thunder, caused Daffyd to clap hands over his ears as a blinding flash of light filled the room.

When eyesight returned, the boy found them still locked in their kiss. Emily held the other's head cupped within her hands while Oishi's arms gripped her tightly. As they finally parted, the young man whispered something in her ear causing the girl to slowly back away, her face mired in confusion. "What did you say?"

"I said 'I promise'," her new partner replied.

--

Daffyd felt rather than saw the flow of energy as more and more power accumulated around the slender girl standing in the center of the shelter. Concern over Emily putting herself at risk clouded the boy's face as his gaze lingered on her beautiful yet determined features. A moment more and she would go battle with a pair of enchanted beasts that were prepared to tear the teen to pieces. Fighting at the cadet's side was an interloper, a vertere, a … a man Emily judged to be a better partner than he.

A sigh, barely audible, escaped the youngster's mouth. He couldn't fault the girl's decision; Oishi may have been a mundane, but the man was an agent of Mahora and had proved more capable than a fourth year student. If only he could do something, anything, to help, but a catalyst mage without spell components was useless.

"**Shis mea bals bel centum octinde secundus!**" Emily chanted. A glow of mana surrounded her partner, providing the man with greater speed and strength for the spell's duration. Without reciting her aria, the mage knight cadet thrust her arms out and magic surged in response. An unseen force struck the shelter's doors causing them to buckle and then burst from their hinges. In an instant, mage and partner dashed out opposite ends.

Torn by his desire to be with Emily, Daffyd hesitated and then hurried to assist the vertere. Oishi had charged the peryton, no doubt surprising the monster that wasn't used to being attacked by prey. An arm hooked around the creature's neck as fingers sought out an eye. A peryton's skin may have been impervious to steel, but the piercing scream told how vulnerable its organs were. Shaking furiously, the monster tried to dislodge its tenaciously clinging opponent, as blood streamed down and stained iridescent, blue feathers.

Unable to maintain a hold, the man was flung away and crashed against a pine tree. Before the peryton could lunge at its stunned foe, Daffyd leapt and grabbed hold of a wing. Though far from being the strongest student in the school, delicate bones splintered from the pressure of his grip. Muscles flexed unexpectedly, sending the boy sprawling across the gravel pathway. Three deadly looking talons jabbed towards his prostrate form when the young mage heard a shout.

"Come here you!" Osihi yelled as the man hurtled into view. Grabbing the twin horns, the mundane twisted the beast's head to one side. Magically boosted or not, Daffyd could see muscles strain as the man slowly wrestled his opponent to the ground much in the manner of an Old World bulldogger.

"**Animus frigus ego tu voco**," Emily's voice cried out. "**Hostes hostium firmus potior**."

Oishi jumped away as the girl's spell struck the creature. When Daffyd looked again, the peryton's feet were sheathed in an immense slab of ice. Little stones crunched as Emily knelt over him, her face a mask of worry as the cadet rapidly examined the boy for wounds. "Just what was that stunt all about?" she yelled at him. "Don't you realize you could have been killed?"

Scrapes and bruises covered the boy's legs and arms, but Daffyd didn't feel the slightest bit of pain as he stared into the loveliest pair of eyes in Ariadne. A slight grin appeared on his lips as he replied, "I never realized how beautiful they are Emi."

"What are you babbling about?"

"Your eyes."

"Idiot!"

--

Although his body ached from head to toe, Hiro couldn't help but snicker as Miss Sevensheep berated her adoring fan's foolishness. One didn't have to be a genius to tell how deeply the boy had fallen for the student mage and, despite her protests otherwise, it seemed obvious to the assassin that the girl returned some of those feelings. 'Invite me to the wedding you two,' he silently chuckled and then turned his attention to the trapped perytons.

Legends may have said they were impervious to ice, but that didn't mean they couldn't be trapped by it. Emily had encased the legs of one and horns of the other in huge chunks of ice that prevented the winged beasts from doing more than squawking in frustration. A bit of quick thinking on the cadet's part that justified her mother's tops in class boast.

Finally convinced that Daffyd would survive, Emily rose and approached. In her hand was something shaped like a playing card, only a bit larger. "Perhaps you could explain something to me," the girl said as she held it out for his inspection. It showed a picture of him dressed in an outlandish, black and gold costume that vaguely resembled a ninja's traditional garb. Several other symbols and letters decorated the card, but what drew the assassin's attention were two words written across the image. "Just who is Sasuki Hiro?"

"Oh come now Miss Sevensheep," he responded. "Certainly you understand the need for pseudonyms?"

"If I went by the same name all of the time, my activities would be easily traced," he explained.

Grudgingly, the girl's mistrustful expression turned thoughtful. "That makes sense," she finally admitted while slipping the card into her handbag. "Very well Mister Oishi, I'm going to call the authorities."

Turning away, Emily stopped and spun back on him, her face an odd mix of embarrassment and earnestness. "And I would appreciate it if our little 'agreement' remained private."

Recalling his conversation on the airship with the girl's mother, where he told the woman there was no cause for worry, he gave her a smug smile. "I think that's an excellent idea."

--

Bodies garbed in every sort of style whirled across the dance floor as a thirty-piece orchestra played. Emily glanced at her reflection in one of the mirrored walls, smoothing non-existent wrinkles out of her dress. Looking at the sheep-eared cadet, one would never guess that she had been fighting for her life little more than an hour ago. Hiro grimaced as protesting muscles reminded the assassin just how short of a time had elapsed.

Noting his discomfort, Daffyd asked, "I can call a healer if you'd like?"

"No, I'll be fine without it," he replied as eyes alighted upon his date.

Wearing a sapphire blue gown, Beatrix stood by the punch bowl, glancing nervously about. At her elbow was Collet, who was busy serving thirsty party-goers and keeping up a non-stop patter. Locking in the coordinates, Hiro homed in on the girl and swiftly made his way through the gyrating crowd. "Good evening. I'm sorry for making you wait."

Both relief and concern appeared on the dark-haired girl's face. "I was beginning to get worried," Beatrix said. "What happened?"

"I tore my coat on a tree," he chuckled in return, "and we had to find somebody that could cast a mending spell."

"See, I told you they were alright," Collet interjected. "Would you like some punch?"

As he lifted the cup, Hiro heard a "Well hello Mister Oishi." Turning about, he faced a young couple. Like Daffyd, the girl had a pair of cone-shaped horns jutting out above each, goat-like ear, but her hair was lighter in color. Next to her stood a blonde-haired boy with a small pair of horns above his brow. "What a pleasure to meet you again."

"Hello Marie," Beatrix said with an edge of irritation. Hiro recalled that the horned girl was one of the cadets greeting him and the professor on their arrival in Ariadne.

"Hello Bea," the newcomer replied. "And this is my escort Jonn N'Dahlia."

The boy bowed in greeting as Marie continued. "Jonn, this is Oishi Kuranosuke; the man who foiled the attempt on the Speaker Karkorlova's life."

Jonn's sullen expression was anything but welcoming as Daffyd's off-hand comment about the other boys hating his guts came to mind. "How very nice to meet you," the assassin remarked as he bowed in return.

"Would you do me the honor of the next dance Mister Oishi?" Marie asked.

"I haven't had a dance with Miss Monroe yet," Hiro told her.

"Besides, he's Beatrix date tonight," Collet reminded the other girl.

"But being a celebrity, it wouldn't be fair if he only danced with one girl," Marie remarked. "Isn't that right Bea?"

Resentment rose in the dark-haired girl's face, prompting Hiro to step in. "I suppose a few dances will be fine, but right now," he paused and turned towards Beatrix, "will you join me in the next dance Miss Monroe?"

Before he realized it, Collet stood next to them, hand on either's shoulder, and pushed them towards the ballroom floor. "Have a good time you two."

"That's a beautiful dress," Hiro said as the music started, but was answered by the girl's throaty "grrrrr!"

"I'm sorry if I was out of line," he quickly added. "Your classmate didn't strike me as the type to take no for an answer."

"I should be the one to apologize," Beatrix said. "Marie has a bad habit of coming on a bit too strong."

'Not uncommon around here,' Hiro thought.

"So what really delayed you this evening," she asked.

"How …"

Beatrix giggled at his surprised expression and then answered, "Girls know when guys are keeping things from them."

"One of the exhibits at the menagerie got loose," he answered.

"That can't happen."

"Well it did," he protested. "Miss Sevensheep put them on ice and then we waited for the authorities to show up."

"Not to be rude, but do things like this always happen when you're around?"

Hiro thought over her question. His profession brought him into contact with danger on a regular basis, but it did seem that these occurrences had increased in frequency since he first arrived at Mahora. That white-haired girl with the tattoos had said something about being bound to that place.

"Is it possible you've been cursed?" Beatrix asked.

"You know, you may be on to something," the assassin replied. "But how can I find out?"

"The school maintains several curse breakers on its staff," the girl told him. "For obvious reasons."

Not much imagination was needed to picture the results of cramming thousands of student mages together. "I'll bet."

"My turn," Marie said as the couple walked off the dance floor. Grabbing hold of an arm, the horned girl propelled him back to the maelstrom's center. Hiro heard her disgruntled companion ask Beatrix, "Uh, would you like to dance?"

Avoiding the excessive makeup many girls her age liked to apply, Marie had still doused herself liberally with perfume. Its cloying fragrance tickled the back of his throat unpleasantly. "Did you like my letter?" she asked.

"I know this sounds like boasting, but I've received a few letters recently," Hiro responded. "Which one was yours?"

Mentioning that it contained "something special" instantly brought to mind the pair of panties mailed from Ariadne. "I was wondering when the owner would show up," he remarked. "Do you want to claim your property?"

An ear to ear grin stretched across the teen's face as she asked in return, "Do you want to claim what goes in them?"

"That's rather straight forward."

"I've always thought that if you want something, you should go for it," she explained. "Why waste time beating around the bush when you can dive right in?"

Hiro held out his arm as she twirled about and then stepped in close. "Whatever Beatrix Monroe can offer," Marie promised, "I can more than replace."

Saintly was an adjective Hiro would never apply to himself. Similar offers had been made and accepted without causing the young man one pang of remorse. And while his dance partner was certainly attractive, this was a complication the assassin didn't need right now. "Unfortunately, I'm in the middle of an important mission."

"Mission?" Her voice sounded skeptical.

"You don't think sensei and I are on a vacation do you?" Hiro asked as his expression turned serious. "We've been tracking the activities of a highly dangerous group."

"Which group is that?"

"I'm not at liberty to say, but no doubt you've heard of them," the assassin replied. "We think they may be planning something and soon."

"Here?" she asked as if such an event was inconceivable.

"We wouldn't be here if Ariadne wasn't ground zero," Hiro replied. "I need to ask for your assistance."

A confused look spread across the girl's face as if Marie tried to decide if the hero from the news casts was on the level or setting up an elaborate prank. "How can I help?"

"Sensei and I are at a disadvantage since neither of us would recognize something out of the ordinary," he explained. "If we had other eyes looking, it would be invaluable to us."

Gears ground away as the student mage considered his words, all the while doubt wrestled with desire. Not every mage sought the rigorous training of a Mage Knight, and even fewer attempted to join the elite Valkyrie Brigade. Out of a year group with over 600 students, less than 20 made it through the selection process. That Marie du Noir did, spoke volumes about her ambition and determination. Finally making up her mind, the girl's expression grew as serious as his. "You can count on me," the cadet calmly announced.

"Do you have any classmates you'd trust with this information?"

Again Marie's face screwed up in a thoughtful look. "Yes. Definitely."

"If they're here, I'll need you to have them ask me for a dance," Hiro instructed. "I'll explain the situation to them just like I have to you."

A dubious expression returned at his words, prompting Hiro to add, "Unless you're afraid this is all a scheme to fill out my dance card."

--

Whiskers tickled a cheek as he held the cat-girl close. "As you can see Miss du Chat …"

"Please call me Sachi," she purred into his ear.

"Very well Sachi," Hiro said, "Your full cooperation is desperately needed."

Soft, white hairs rubbed against the vertere's skin as the couple glided across the floor. Not an unpleasant sensation the assassin decided, but one that was certainly distracting. "Of course I'm in," the furred teen responded in her not quite Parisian accent. "And may I say that I will gladly serve you in any position Mister Oishi."

"Are you chilled?" Sachi asked as a shudder ran through him.

"No," he cautiously replied as visions of luminous eyes in dark broom closets faded. "I could use a breather."

--

Finally relieved from serving, Collet grabbed a partner and headed for the dance floor. Of course the goat-boy she was currently dancing with was so short that the top of his head barely reached her chest. And those knobby horns were poking most uncomfortably. Out of the corner of her vision, the beagle-girl observed Oishi and Sachi walking towards the side. From the opposite direction, a scowling Emily moved on an interception course.

"This can't be good," Collet muttered as she hastily excused herself. Meanwhile, the cat-girl noted the rapidly approaching storm and beat a hasty retreat, leaving the vertere to face the class president's wrath alone.

"Is this your idea of showing someone a good time?" she heard Emily demand.

"Where's Beatrix?" the young man asked.

"She went outside," Emily replied crossly. "Probably got bored watching you flirt with all of her classmates."

Collet reached them just as Oishi left. "Gee prez, can't you cut him some slack?"

Emily turned an angry frown on her in turn. "Why should …"

"Because Marie and the others were throwing themselves at him from the moment he showed up," Collet defiantly interrupted. "He only danced with them to keep them from bothering Beatrix further."

Before Emily could respond, Daffyd appeared, holding a cup in either hand. "Punch anyone?" the boy asked.

"Idiot!" Emily screamed and then stomped away leaving two vexed teens to watch her departure.

--

Beatrix stood on the balcony overlooking a carefully landscaped garden. Two moons, scarcely larger than the surrounding stars, shone brilliantly overhead. Footsteps sounded from behind, but the girl continued to gaze forward. "It's lovely out here isn't it?"

"Miss Monroe … I …"

"You know, Miss Monroe and Mister Oishi sound terribly stuffy," she said. "I wouldn't mind if you called me Beatrix."

"Kuranosuke is a bit of a mouthful," the man remarked as he stepped to her side.

"That's true."

"You could try 'Kuro'," he suggested.

"Kuro it is," she said. "Are you having a good time?"

"Shouldn't that be my question?"

"I am having a good time," Beatrix told him. Palms slid against one another and fingers laced together. "I'm with someone I like."

An awkward silence settled about the pair until Beatrix spoke again. "Did you know that I'm the first mage in my family to be accepted into the school here at Ariadne?"

"No I didn't."

"There have been a number of Sevensheeps, du Noirs, even Farandoles, but only one Monroe in all this time," she explained. "For a family noted for providing servants to the wealthy and powerful, my acceptance was a significant event. And when I made it into the mage knight program …"

"I liked all of the extra attention my relatives gave me at first, but it wore thin after a while. I think the worst part was when I realized that all of their hopes and dreams rested upon me. My success somehow validated the whole family's sense of worth, so failure is not an option for me."

"I guess what I'm trying to say Kuro, is that I understand what you're going through; at least a little." Beatrix leaned her head against his shoulder and continued. "I won't say that I'm not disappointed but I'm not unhappy to be here. Nor am I angry with you."

"I don't know what to say Miss … Beatrix."

Turning towards him, the girl reached up with her free hand and gently pulled his head down. "Then don't say anything." Lips met on the starlit balcony.

--

Collet could feel her mouth stretch into a smile as she observed the couple's kiss. 'Good for you Beatrix,' she mentally cheered her classmate on and then turned away from the curtained doorway. One day perhaps the beagle-girl and her special person would be able to share such a moment. That time might come as soon as next month, but first her uncle had to give his permission for her to visit Mahora. "One day," she murmured hopefully.

"Hey Collet."

Whirling about, she saw Marie du Noir approach. "Have you seen Mister Oishi recently?" her fellow cadet asked.

"Oh, I saw him go this way," she answered while grabbing Marie's arm and spinning the girl in the opposite direction. "By the way, have you tried the tiramisu yet? It's to die for."

--

**A/N: For all of her supposed power, Konoka has rarely been more than another damsel in distress throughout the series. Even most fanfics follow this dictum. I know the series isn't called Maho Sensei Konoka, but I had hopes for the girl when she actually used an attack spell in a recent chapter. I wonder just what she's truly capable of.**

**Chapter title and heading are from the song 'Turn, Turn, Turn' by the Byrds. Of course the lyrics are found in the Old Testament but it's not like fanfiction writers never 'borrow' from other sources.**

**The following words/phrases are used in this chapter:**

**Tokonoma - An alcove in traditional homes for displaying art work and such**

**Resero – Open**

**Shis mea bals bel centum octinde secundus – Contract activate for 180 seconds (Negi uses this during the battle with Amagasaki Chigusa when the Kansai mage kidnapped Konoka the first time)**

**Animus frigus ego tu voco, hostes hostium firmus potior - Sprit of ice I summon you, hold firm my opponent**


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: Events come to a head in Ariadne. My thanks Makuhari_Fan01 for all of the suggestions. They are deeply appreciated.**

**Warning – lots of POV shifts ahead.**

**Negima and its characters are the property of Ken Akamatsu. Cycilia Sevensheep and Xavier March are used with Makuhari_Fan01's permission. Other characters are of my own invention.**

**The following conventions are use: **"words"**,** 'thoughts'**, "spells"**

**--**

**Assassin's Creed**

**Nothing is impossible, anything is possible - **Altair

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

Rising at her customary time of four in the morning, even on a day off, Cycilia finished perusing the recent headlines while enjoying her first cup of tea. Pictures of the Thousand Master hung on each of the bedroom's walls, creating a shrine much like an adolescent girl would build for a favored celebrity. Some called her behavior in regards to the man an "obsession" and cautiously suggested she might want to talk with a professional about it. But for the woman, Nagi Springfield was one of the anchors that kept her from aimlessly drifting through life.

Her father and mother had been the foundation, but both had been brutally snatched away when Cycilia wasn't much older than Emily was now. Though their deaths were officially labeled an accident, the future reporter knew the truth was far different. Like any man of action, her father had made enemies both inside and out of Ariadne. Deep in depression, the teenage girl had desperately reached out for something to latch onto and the Thousand Master, hero of the recently ended war, became her focus.

Pulling a red, satin robe over her nightgown, the news reporter vividly recalled the day he had been taken away too. Slain while battling a resurrected Total World, pictures of his horribly burned remains had been widely circulated. After recovering from an illness brought on by the trauma, she had started her collection in earnest. Years of combing estate sales, flea markets and advertisements had yielded the finest trove of Springfield memorabilia on the continent. Even Vicky Seras was jealous over some of her treasures.

Stepping out of the bedroom, she was greeted by a cheerful "Good morning Miss Sevensheep."

As if by magic, the grey-haired butler appeared at her side. Winston had been in the family's employ since before Cycilia was born. Originally the man became a slave in order to purchase a healing elixir for his ailing brother, but decided to stay on after paying off the debt. "Good morning Winston."

"The cook wanted to know how many people will be taking breakfast this morning," the man announced.

"Two," she replied after a moment's thought. "We'll eat on the patio."

"Very good," he said. "Will there be anything else?"

"Not right now Winston," Cycilia answered. "Thank you."

Descending to her apartment's first floor, she walked to a set of double doors and quietly opened one to step into the room beyond. Built for entertaining large numbers of guests, the Family room was a huge space with a vaulted ceiling. It also happened to be the only room big enough to hang her larger than life-size portrait of the Thousand Master.

A 15 year old boy's grinning visage stared down as the woman walked softly to the couch where her sleeping guest laid. Professor Akashi was stretched out on his side with arms wrapped around the pillow. He had kicked the top sheet off during the evening, and the man's bare chest was exposed. Cycilia gently shook his shoulder; in response he muttered "Five more minutes dear" and turned onto the opposite side.

Inspiration struck as the reporter grinned and went over to the wet bar. Opening the refrigerator, she grabbed an ice cube with a set of tongs. Gingerly she touched the cube to the back of Akashi's neck and began to slide it down his back, stopping when the professor shouted. Bolting upright, his eyes scanned the room and immediately settled on the woman unsuccessfully trying not to laugh.

"Good morning Mister Akashi."

Glaring at the dripping ice cube and tongs, he returned Cycilia's greeting, "Good morning Miss Sevensheep."

"Not that I'm complaining mind you," the news reporter commented, "but you might want to adjust your covers."

Glancing down, he seized the errant sheet and yanked it back above his waist. "Um, thank you," Akashi muttered as a trace of red rose in his face.

"Breakfast will be ready in a short while," she informed him. "I'll have Winston bring you something to wear."

Turning her back, Cycilia began to walk away. "Although I must say that I approve of your current attire."

Bathed, shaved and dressed, the "vacationing" professor joined her on the apartment's patio. "Danish?" she asked while offering a tray of the fruit-topped sweet breads.

"Thank you," the man replied as he took one topped with pears imported from the Old World. "And thank you for allowing me to stay over last night."

"There wasn't much sense to make you travel clear across town when I have plenty of room here," she said while pouring a glass of an orange-red colored juice.

"I'm curious as to why you became a reporter?" Akashi asked as he cut into the pastry.

"Once, I harbored dreams of becoming a mage knight, but it became clear early on that I wasn't cut out for that life," Cycilia answered. "After my parents died, I spent several years playing the spoiled heiress; however, I soon grew bored of that. It was just past my eighteenth birthday when I met a very charming, very dashing young man whom I fell in love with."

"I was still a silly girl then, thinking I could buy someone's affection," the woman said as a bittersweet smile crossed her face. "I believe with all my heart that he truly cared about me, but in trying to cling to him, I only drove my love away. Our daughter was born several months after he left."

"When they first laid Emily in my arms, I realized that I couldn't, nor did I want to, continue to live that way," Cycilia told him. "I didn't have many skills to call on; however the Sevensheep name still admitted me to many places in and around Ariadne, places the general public couldn't go. So I decided to give news reporting a try. That was 15 years ago."

"Now a question for you professor," the woman said. "Why did you walk away from Everlasting Wind?"

She carefully watched his face, fearful of having stepped across the boundaries of their budding friendship.

"My wife Rikku died while we were vacationing in the British Isles," Akashi finally answered. "Our daughter, Yuna, was only seven and I quit being an agent in order to raise her, but in truth, without Rikku at my side I didn't have the heart for the work anymore. When Mahora offered me a full professor's position in their computer science and engineering department, I eagerly accepted."

"Do you ever miss it?" her curiosity-tinged voice asked.

"Every single day," the middle-aged man answered. "But when I look at Yuna, I can't believe that was the wrong choice."

As the couple continued with their breakfast, a man with bull-like horns atop his head watched them through a circle formed by a thumb and index finger. "Which one is the mage?"

"The human," his companion, a dog-man whose features strongly resembled a jackal, answered.

"Good," the bull-man remarked as his gaze roamed over the woman's body. "It'd be a shame to waste someone as cute as that."

--

"So what is this 'big surprise'?" the professor asked as his hostess flipped on the storage room's light switch.

"You'll see," Cycilia answered as she walked to a long, cylindrical shape covered by a canvass tarp. "Give me a hand lifting this."

Removing the cover revealed a shark-shaped speeder. Akashi gave an appreciative whistle followed by "You don't see those in too many garages."

Gazing at the sleek, grey chassis stripped with blue, he asked "How fast can this go?"

"The normal models topped out at 180 kilometers an hour," the reporter told him. "But this one was designed especially for racing. I've gotten it up to as high as 300."

"You Miss Sevensheep?"

"Don't sound so surprise," Cycilia said. "You do recall that part about acting like a spoiled heiress?"

"You're a person of many talents," he remarked. "Growing up, I would have given my right arm for a chance to drive something like that."

"Would you like to give it a spin professor?" the woman asked as the ignition crystal dangled from her hand.

"I'd love to, but I'm not so willing to surrender an arm these days."

"I won't charge that much," she replied. "Since I need to look after my property, you only have to take me along for the ride."

--

Flavius' mouth split into a wide yawn that revealed a row of lethally sharp teeth.

"Could you stop doing that?" his squid-faced partner asked.

"I wouldn't feel so tired if the heat wasn't up so blasted high," the neko-man defended himself.

"Go ahead and turn it down," his fellow agent relented. "But don't blame me if we freeze to these seats."

Clawed hands quickly twisted the control knob and the warm air ceased flowing from the pod's vents. "When does our relief get here?" Flavius asked as he gazed through the vehicle's streaked windshield. Why the ministry wanted this man watched wasn't any of his business, but it was boring to sit like this day after day.

Glancing at down at the dashboard's clock, his companion replied, "Not for a couple hours yet."

"Gyaaah," the cat-man cried. "This is driving me crazy."

"Beats being in the cold so quit your bellyaching," the other agent said. "Think about Sho."

Sho, a dolphin-man, had drawn watching the boy that morning. Since large vehicles would stand out on school grounds, the agent had been issued a scooter. Flavius has to chuckle at the image of the dolphin-man bundled in a heavy coat and gloves, with a fedora perched atop his head. "Yeah, but at least Sho gets to look at pretty girls all day."

"I wouldn't complain about that either," his companion responded. "That woman our fiend here spent the night with is a real piece of work."

"On yeah," he hastily agreed. "She's on the HD I think."

A fantasy scene started playing in his mind where the sheep-eared woman was one of the starlets from the 'Beach Watch' show. He could picture her running across the sand, wearing one of those skintight bathing suits. The unexpected sound of the engines starting brought him back to the present. "What?"

Pointing to a speeder lifting off of the apartment building's pad, his partner said, "That's them."

'At last, something to do,' Flavius thought as the nautilus pod shifted into gear. 'Not that anything exciting is going to happen,' the agent silently groused as he watched the couple enjoy their morning ride around the city.

A short while later, a pair of small, hover bikes zoomed past the nautilus and started to overtake the speeder. "Damn!" the cat-man exclaimed in surprise. "Where's the fire!"

"Crap!" the other man shouted. "Look at the size of those blasters!"

"What?"

"Those bikers are armed!" the squid-man shouted. "Looks like military grade hardware too!"

"Bast's teats!" Flavius cursed. The ministry agents were assigned to observe and report. While the Council of Mages' authority was recognized in Ariadne, they had no legal standing to do other than their orders stated. "What do we do?"

"Contact headquarters!" his companion shouted as they saw the flash as a weapon discharged. "Let them know what's going on!"

--

Wind rushed past the couple as the speeder sliced through the air as gracefully as the shark of the Mundus Vetus did through that world's seas. Cycilia had thought a ride through the city a good idea when she suggested it; the woman hadn't counted on events of long ago intruding on her pleasant outing. Memories of another ride, with another man, rebelliously rose despite efforts to keep them away.

That couple had ridden through the city skies to a seaside park overlooking the gateport. Cycilia had felt a growing restlessness in her lover, and a sense of impending doom haunted the young socialite. Perhaps the news she had would have made him happy, but the future reporter never had a chance to tell him.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think it's going to work out between us," he had said.

"I guess it wouldn't," Cycilia admitted. "I've been the perfect, spoiled, little girl. Demanding, clingy. I haven't really understood who you were."

She had left him there, refusing to tell her love that she was pregnant, refusing to use that age-old ploy in trapping him to stay with her. Save for a few short jaunts, the ride back to her home was the last Cycilia had been on the speeder. Arms cinched tighter about the professors waist as tears cried years before stung eyes anew.

Sparing a glance behind, the reporter noticed two rapidly approaching speeders. Sunlight glinted off the chromed barrel of a sagitta blaster. In response, her foot reached forward and pressed Akashi's down on the accelerator. The speeder rocketed forward, prompting a surprised "What?" from her companion. An explosion sounded as the attack meant for them struck a nearby building instead.

"We've got a couple of gatecrashers," Cycilia answered. "And they don't seem friendly."

"Any ideas?"

"The shark is built for speed not maneuverability," she told him. "We need to get into an open space."

"Hang on then," Akashi said as he stomped down on the accelerator.

Picking up speed, the shark flew past the KitNews building and Pasiphae Park. The professor kept enough distance to keep outside of hand-held blaster range, but failed to shake their adversaries. Cycilia was puzzled when they dropped to a couple meters above the ground and then realized the man's intention. A dark gap appeared in the wall ahead as the shark raced for the Sheep Gate. Threading the needle on a broom was one thing, but the shark wasn't built for such a small space.

"Get down!" Akashi shouted as he laid flat against the chassis. Cycilia followed his example as the speeder rolled onto its side. Sparks flew as metal scraped against the ancient stone tunnel's sides. A moment later, they broke into daylight. Trembling in her fur-lined boots, the woman sat back up as the Forest of Monsters loomed closer.

Once they penetrated the woods, Professor Akashi suddenly dropped their speed and came to a stop. "This is where I let you off Miss Sevensheep," he said. "I'll draw them into the woods. That should give you time to get away."

"They call this the Forest of Monsters for a reason," she reminded him.

"I know," the former agent replied. "The odds will even out this way."

Cycilia wanted to argue, but realized there wasn't time. "Take care Mister Akashi," the reporter said. "I'd like you come out of this alive."

"That's high on my 'to do' list as well," he quipped and then sped away.

--

Having been left far behind by the racing bikes, the nautilus slowed as it approached the forest's edge. The driver shifted gears as the air car halted a good 25 meters from a line of trees. Branches swayed in a steady wind that shook autumn colored leaves. "I guess I should take a look," Flavius glumly remarked. Leaping lightly to the ground, the cat-man began what was clearly an unenthusiastic search. Being so near the monster-filled woods, the squid-man couldn't blame his fellow agent.

Octavian Ackbar had been with the Security Ministry for over 10 years. During that time the agent learned that no assignment was ever "simple" whenever mages were concerned. "I should have known," he commented to himself while reaching for the communicator's handset.

"Alpha Oscar to home base," he called.

"Home base here Alpha Oscar," the speaker crackled in response.

"Subject fled into the Monstrous Silvanus followed by the two bogeys," Octavian reported. "Visual contact was lost for all. We're checking for the any evidence of their intentions."

"We copy Alpha Oscar," the disembodied voice replied. "After you finish, make a circuit of the forest's perimeter and report back."

"I copy home base," he responded. "Alpha Oscar out."

A flash of movement from the woods caught his eye, prompting an exclamation of "It's a trap!" Quickly the security agent grabbed his issued carbine and swung the door open. Leaves and twigs crunched as he dropped to the ground. "Hold it!" the squid-man barked while leveling the rifle barrel at the new threat. "Come out slowly and with your hands in the air!"

Following the shouted instructions, a woman emerged from behind a screen of brush. Octavian recognized her as the professor's companion. "I need to contact the authorities," she called out. "Can you help me?"

"Where's your friend?" Octavian's fellow agent asked.

"He's somewhere in the woods," the woman answered. "Can you please help me contact the Ariadne lawgivers?"

"Sure thing," the squid-man replied as he lowered his weapon. "Anyone special we should ask for?"

"Ask for Detective March," she said. "His first name is Xavier. Tell him you're with Cycilia Sevensheep."

--

Engines screamed as the hover bikes pursued the speeder like hunting beasts hot on their prey's trail. Explosions punctuated the chase as errant beams of energy detonated against moss-covered bark. Despite the danger he was in, Akashi breathed a small sign of relief. While blasters packed the same punch as a Sagitta Magica, his opponents couldn't control the arrows' flight once they left the weapon.

As the shark raced down a clear path between the trees, the professor twisted about and released his own spell, trying to disable the pursuing vehicles. Bolts hastened to their targets only to flare against unseen shields leaving both bikes untouched. A return shot struck one of the rear stabilizers and the shark suddenly veered right.

Two trees leaned into one another, forming a lop-sided figure 'x'. Savagely fighting with the controls, Akashi dropped the speeder beneath the crossed trunks as the shark rolled onto its back. Springing the restraining harness open, he dropped into a leaf-strewn culvert as the bike careened into another tree. The mage's own shields prevented damage as the racing bike was engulfed by a fireball. Quickly he scrambled to his feet as his opponents hovered a safe distance away. Stripping off his coat, the professor draped it on an overhanging branch and pushed a limb back, muttering an incantation while working deeper into the pine thicket.

Black smoke rose from the speeder's shattered chassis as small fires burned. With weapon held at the ready, the jackal-faced hit man descended to a couple meters above the ground while his horned partner remained above the tree tops.

"Do you see a body?" the bull-man shouted down.

"Naw," the man replied and then caught sight of the jacket. "Wait a minute."

Descending to the forest floor, the thug dismounted. "Keep me covered."

From his perch, Akashi watched as the jackal-man reached for the dangling jacket and then the mage released his spell. A tree branch whipped forward in response, smacking the side of his attacker's head. The thug clutched his head as knees buckled. Distracted, the other hit man didn't notice as the professor launched himself into the air.

Landing on the back of the hover bike, he jammed his hand against the bull-man's back. "**Emittam!**" Bands of lightning crackled as they pinned the surprised killer's arms. A glowing fist smashed into the helpless man's temple; eyes rolled up in their sockets as the beast man toppled from his seat. A Sagitta Magica finished off his other opponent. Inside, a part of him crowed in triumph.

"Not bad for a computer geek," he commented as the bike lowered to the ground.

--

Music wafted out of the ballroom, soft as a spring breeze. A dark-haired girl in a sapphire blue dress pressed against his chest as the couple moved in time with its sedate pace. Her gown was backless and Hiro's hand touched silky smooth skin as he held the mage knight cadet close. Their first kiss ended ages ago, yet the feeling of Beatrix' lips against his lingered on.

Though he wasn't consciously comparing them, the young man couldn't help but think about someone else's kisses at that moment. Ayaka had been all fire and passion when they kissed. Beatrix was more like a ripple across the ocean that grew in intensity as it approached the shore, to become a wave that crashed down upon a beach of glittering sand. Ayaka and Beatrix were completely different types of people, yet Hiro found himself attracted to both.

"Who is she?" Beatrix unexpectedly asked.

"Who are you talking about?"

"The girl you were just thinking about."

Repressing a sigh, Hiro told her, "It gets a little tiresome when girls assume guys are thinking about other women."

"Are you telling me you weren't thinking about another woman?"

"No," he answered. They danced for a little longer before he spoke again. "Her name is Ayaka."

"Was she your girlfriend?"

"For a little while," Hiro replied. "We broke up after a big fight."

A noise like someone rapping on a wall sounded behind him, but the assassin ignored it.

"Do you miss her?"

"Very much," he told her.

"Are you in love with her?"

Hiro silently considered her question. Standing before the proverbial fork in the road, the young man pondered his choices. A yes meant continuing to pine after a girl he had made sure hated his guts; a woman he wanted so much that it hurt, yet had no chance to build a future with. Or he could move on and find someone else, like the woman in his arms. It was a decision the assassin found infinitely harder than whether to pull the trigger.

"I'm not …" he started to say when the rapping resumed even louder.

"Mister Oishi," a muffled voice called. "Mister Oishi are you in there?"

He turned to answer and fell to the floor with a thud. Getting to his feet, Hiro walked out of the bedroom to answer the front door. A quick glance through the peep hole assured him that only Emily and Collet waited on the other side. Standing with the door open, he caught the blur of a fist right before Emily's punch landed on his chin. An uppercut lifted him from his feet and threw him backwards into a padded chair. Both assassin and chair flipped over and crashed to the carpet.

"You filthy lecher!" the sheep-eared teen screamed at him. "Where's Beatrix?"

Little green and blue perytons circled his head as eyes tried to focus. "Whadayamean?" his slurred voice asked.

"Beatrix didn't report in last night," a worried Collet answered. "Do you know where she is?"

"She better not have been here!" Emily shrieked. "Or so help me I'll perform surgery on you with a rusty knife!"

"Class rep!"

"No, she's not with me," Hiro answered. "I escorted her home from the dance, but we separated at the turn off for here."

Still snorting flames, Emily continued glaring as if ready to carry out her threat. "Go ahead and check if you don't believe me," the young man suggested as he rose to his feet.

"Do you have any idea where she might be?" Collet asked.

"None," Hiro replied while shaking his head for emphasis. "Beatrix didn't indicated she was going anywhere other than the dorms when we parted."

"Let's go Collet," Emily said as she turned and strode for the door.

"Give me a moment to get dressed and I'll help too," he offered.

"Thanks Mister Oishi," Emily replied in a voice dripping with scorn, "but I think you've done enough helping already."

--

Air forced in through a tube swirled the liquid coolant keeping the mixture of acids at a constant temperature. Glycerin was added slowly to prevent the combining chemicals from overheating and filling the laboratory with toxic fumes. As the final drop fell into the mixing container, two, white coat clad figures breathed a collective sigh of relief.

Cautiously, a sheet of treated cotton was lowered into the solution. As it dissolved, a jelly-like matter began to form.

"I'm still kind of leery about all this," Daffyd commented.

"Grand Mistress Seras herself approved this experiment," Oishi tried to reassure his reluctant assistant. "Once it all turns to gelatin, it will be safe to handle."

"May I ask you a question?" he asked.

"Go ahead."

"Do you want to be Emily's partner?"

"I'm not interested in being anyone's minister mage," the vertere answered. "I prefer to operate independently."

Another sheet of the explosive cotton was carefully gripped by tongs and lowered into the mixture. "Do you know why Emily chose me?" the other man asked Daffyd. "It all has to do with confidence."

"Confidence?" the confused teen replied.

"Even though I don't have any magic, I knew I could contribute something," Oishi explained. "You on the other hand believed you couldn't do anything helpful without your spells."

"But I didn't have any of my components," he protested.

"Is catalyst magic so precise that you can't improvise?"

Daffyd scratched his head in response. "Improvise?"

"Let's take that concession stand as an example," the young man said. "I saw a machine that looked like a drink dispenser. In my world, those use compressed gas and I bet they do here too."

The teen gave a blank look, not understanding where the other was going with the discussion.

"I saw a stove as well," Oishi continued. "That means there were sources for both fuel and ignition. Does that suggest anything to you?"

'Compressed gas, fuel and ignition system,' the boy thought and then slapped a palm against his forehead.

"I am such an idiot," he exclaimed.

"You're used to the classroom where everything is carefully measured and controlled," his companion said. "You lack the confidence to do in less than ideal conditions what you do in the lab. Emily picked up on that right away."

No one liked examining their shortcomings, but Daffyd knew he dared not ignore what the other man had pointed out. Not if he ever wanted to impress the younger Miss Sevensheep. But what could he do about it?

"It's too bad I'm not a senior," he commented. "The school's dean is teaching an advanced seminar next term that covers that kind of improvisation."

"So only seniors can take that class?"

"No," he answered. "Juniors and sophomores can petition to get in but it takes a minimum of three faculty recommendations."

"There's that lack of confidence again," the other man observed.

"What do you mean?"

"You're going to pass on this chance because you don't believe you can get three recommendations, right?"

"Um, well …"

"My grandfather could trot out a saying for any occasion," Oishi told him. "In this case he'd say 'the only person who can never win a race is the one who doesn't enter'."

As he pondered the odd phrase, Daffyd noted the warning light over the entrance flash. A fellow student stood outside with an envelope in his hand. "This came for Mister Oishi."

Oishi carefully broke the seal and read the enclosed note. "Can you take care of the rest of this?" he asked.

"Sure," Daffyd replied. "What's wrong?"

"I just received an important invitation," the man answered while dropping the crumpled note into a waste bin. "And immediate acceptance is required."

--

Cold seeped in through her woolen gloves and leggings as the elf-girl trailed the mysterious young man from the Mundus Vetus. Anna Van Eyck had been keenly disappointed when she lost last year's broom rally. She had worked as hard as anyone else in her year group and it was galling to her pride to smile as others were selected for the coveted spots on the Ostian Festival detail. Watching Jei and Sachi receive commendations for their actions during the final day's battle only made the disappointment worse.

When Captain Hild gave her and the others this mission, the cadet had been thrilled. Finally, she had a chance to prove herself. Alas, observation duty was dull and offered little chance for heroics. Only the class rep's displeasure at being made the official escort provided any consolation. In fact, Emily had been fit to be tied when she and Collet left Mister Oishi's quarters this morning. Anna was nearly beside herself with curiosity, but the storm cloud hovering over Cadet Sevensheep reminded the elf about the line of discretion being the better part of valor.

Oishi had left his assigned cottage and met up with that Daffyd boy who liked Emily, outside of the Catalyst School's lab; no doubt to play with the chemistry sets. Being a natural-born mage, she wondered why people still bothered doing things the "hard way".

From the lab, Anna followed the mundane as he seemingly wandered around town. Strolling through a small park, Oishi approached a bench where an elderly rabbit-woman sat. The long-eared stranger, buried by a heavy coat and several scarves, was knitting what looked like a purple neck scarf. Anna shuddered as memories of similar gifts received as a child came to mind.

Holding out a scrap of paper, he appeared to ask the woman a question. In response, the knitter placed a pair of spectacles on her short, pink nose and squinted at the note. Oishi sat down on the bench and the two conversed for a few minutes after which he gave a quick bow and departed.

"Oh dear, oh dear," the rabbit-eared woman said as Anna approached. "Where did I put those dratted things?"

"Excuse me," the elf-girl remarked. "Have you lost something?"

The stranger looked up from rummaging through a voluminous bag. "I've mislaid my needles," came the answer. "I just had them too, right before that nice young man asked for directions."

"Maybe he might know where you put them," the girl suggested. "I can try asking. Do you know where he's going?"

"Oh, the address is 515 Hanover Street," the old woman instantly answered. "That's only a few blocks north of here."

"Thank you," Anna replied as she turned to continue her pursuit.

"By the way, if you're interested in him young lady," the senior called out, "he told me he already has a girlfriend. Too bad really. I think several of my granddaughters would like him."

The address turned out to be for a derelict building. Boards had been nailed over windows and a large condemned sign was posted in front. Anna watched the young vertere duck down an alley. Wand in hand, the cadet cautiously followed. Perhaps this was her hoped for opportunity.

Tradition states that elves can move through heavily wooded areas and raise a sound no louder than leaves rustling in a gentle breeze. Unlike many other old tales, this one understated the truth. When an elf sets her mind to it, she moves in silence that would shame a cat. From ahead came the squeal of metal as one of the boards was pried away, followed by the crashing of glass. The young man climbed through the broken window and disappeared inside.

Anna paused as Captain Hild's words on the first day of instruction came to the teen. "For every hero we celebrate, a hundred warriors died attempting the same action," the commandant had said. "Valkyries don't train to become heroes. They train to perform missions quickly, efficiently, and to return battle ready. Success should never be measured by the amount of praise heaped causally about; rather, it reflects the number of your team that return."

Making a sour face, she backed around the corner. While reaching for her communicator the last voice she wanted to hear called out, "Anna! What are you doing here?"

--

Spells encircled her wrists, securely binding Beatrix's arms above her head. Clearly the teen could recall leaving Kuro to continue on to her dormitory, and then Master Magnusson had shown up. Things got hazy after that, but upon regaining consciousness, the cadet found herself suspended in a dimly lit room with the point of her sword instructor's blade pressed against her throat.

"Mmplf," the girl had cried into a plastic ball serving as a gag.

"Ah, just in time," the fencing master said. "I misjudged the amount of sleeping potion I used, but you haven't missed anything. It's been rather boring waiting for your boyfriend to show up."

Again her muffled voice sounded. "Mm bmmfrmmd?"

"Sorry that you had to be caught up in this," Magnusson apologized as a mocking smile played about his lips. "But you were in the wrong place at the wrong time my dear."

Eyes gaped in shock as the realization slammed hard into her. No one believed that the professor and student assistant were on a pleasure trip; however in the excitement of the dance and all, Beatrix had forgotten that the pair had come to Ariadne for a reason. She had let her guard down, and was now bait to lure Kuro into a trap.

In a perfectly melodramatic moment, the door opened and the young man from the Mundus Vetus sauntered into the room. Unlike the friendly expression his face normally wore, Kuro's face had a hard edge to it, as if carved from a piece of cold, white marble. Confused, she stared at this seeming stranger.

"Well met Mister Oishi," Magnusson said. "Or should I say Sasuki?"

"My name must be the worst kept secret in Ariadne," the young man answered.

"I do hope for this young lady's sake you followed my instructions," the swordsman warned as the tip of his foil pricked her skin. A small drop of blood dripped down her neck response.

"I didn't tell anyone where I was headed, except for a little old lady I asked directions from," an icy voice replied. "And no knives, guns or bombs. Not even a pair of nail clippers."

Beatrix could see the air about Kuro glitter as the truth spell confirmed his words. "Now what?" he asked.

"Now we fight to the death Mister Sasuki," the fencing instructor informed him. "If you win, both you and the girl walk out of here, otherwise …"

"Just what did I do to piss you off Magnusson?"

"Why should it matter to a mere hired killer such as yourself?" the older man responded.

Beatrix couldn't help but react in shock to that. "Oh, so you didn't know your boyfriend is an assassin?" the swordsman asked. "A man who takes pay to murder people he's doesn't know, people who've never done him any harm?"

"How many has it been Mister Sasuki?" Magnusson asked. "Thirty people? Forty?"

Her eyes pleaded with him to deny what the other man had said, to call it all a lie, but the stone-like face answered, "Somewhere between those two numbers." A little piece of the girl withered and died at his words.

"I suppose we're going to duel with swords?" he asked. Magnusson pointed to a second foil that leaned against the wall. Kuro picked it up and ran a hand along the length of the blade. "Why is it square?" asked. "And why aren't the edges sharp?"

"The foil has evolved over the centuries into a simple, yet elegant weapon," the swordsman answered. "The tip is all you need."

The weapon clattered to the floor as Kuro tossed it away.

"That is a foolish decision," Magnusson remarked. "An unarmed man against a sword is at a serious disadvantage, no matter how many movies paint it otherwise."

For the first time, the self-admitted assassin permitted himself a tiny smile. "One thing I was taught at an early age was never play to your opponent's strength."

"Pick up the sword," Magnusson demanded. "At least pretend this girl's life means something to you."

Kuro replied by moving into a fighting stance with feet spread apart and arms raised.

Magnusson charged and Beatrix heard a sharp clack as the vertere brought his arm up to block. Twice more the swordsman thrust and again the clack sounded. Suddenly, the foil slashed forward and Kuro jumped back but not before it cut into his forearm.

"Sticks?" his opponent scoffed at the pair of knitting needles in his hand. "You expect to beat me with a couple of sticks?"

Kuro kept grimly quiet as the fencing master bore down upon him. Hands moved so rapidly that the girl could hardly follow them, however it soon became apparent that the young man was overmatched. Bleeding from a score of cuts, he narrowly avoided the swordsman's thrust and grabbed his adversary's wrist in return. His surprised opponent bellowed in pain as a knitting needle pierced the man's forearm.

Magnusson's punched with his offhand, staggering the assassin. Changing the sword to the other hand, the fencer glared murderously at the younger man who was again smiling.

"I'll not be mocked by an insolent whelp!" he thundered and then lunged. Grasping the foil with a bare hand, Kuro shoved the blow aside. Beatrix watched in horrified fascination as the younger man's foot lashed out and savagely kicked the other's face, causing the fencing master's head to snap back and then forward like a bobble-head doll. Blood spurted as the next kick crunched into the man's nose. A third kick and Magnusson released his weapon as he fell backwards and lay still.

Slowly the victor walked to her and dropped the sword at her feet. Beatrix couldn't recognize the cruel, bloody face before her. Hands, stained crimson, reached up and released her gag. "Kuro … I … I"

"Don't say anything," he said in the voice of a man at the edge of exhaustion.

The door disintegrated in a burst of magic as a squad of mage knights charged in with lances at the ready. "Nobody move," Captain Hild ordered. Beatrix noted that her ojou-sama and two other classmates were with the cadet commandant.

"Yay, the cavalry's here," Kuro commented as he pulled out a cigarette pack. Before the vertere could remove one, he shuddered and then collapsed.

"Captain Hild?" Emily called and then rushed towards him after their commanding officer nodded. Kneeling next to the prostrate figure, the blonde-haired teen pulled a pactio card from a pocket. "**Sim ipse pars, Sasuki Hiro**," the magister mage intoned and energy flowed into the unconscious man.

"You have a … pactio … ojou-sama?" a stunned Beatrix asked and then watched as Emily's face blanched white.

--

**Megalo-Messembria, Mundus Magicus**

Seated behind her councilor's desk, Esmerelda Ter'Selion studied the young lady before her. "Please pardon my seeming rudeness agent Masuda," the elven mage said. "One doesn't open the door and expect to find an inquisition on the front step."

"No offense was taken councilor," the woman replied. "It is an understandable reaction."

"How may I help you?"

"Several financial irregularities have been reported and I am performing preliminary fact finding to see if a full investigation is warranted," the inquisitor said. "I am required to inform you that you are under no obligation to answer any of my questions, but our conversation is to be kept in the strictest confidence."

"I see," the elf-woman responded. "And you are speaking to me because …"

"The majority of discrepancies are with the gate stone replacement project," the other woman answered. "You chair the oversight committee do you not?"

Could she have slouched back in her chair, Esmerelda would have, however the abuse endured while being the former King of Enteofushia's guest had robbed her of that ability. "Yes I do chair that committee," she explained. "However we are concerned with the fabrication and delivery of the stones. The finances are handled by someone else."

"And who would that be councilor?"

"Speaker Karkolova as you are no doubt aware," she replied with just a trace of irritation.

"Isn't this arrangement unusual?" the agent asked. "Don't committees normally monitor their own spending?"

"Normally yes," Esmerelda answered. "But the situation was far from normal. The standing council voted the Speaker extraordinary power to ensure the gateports were functional as quickly as possible."

"You are a close associate of the Speaker," Agent Masuda remarked. "Has she ever discussed the project's finances with you?"

"Never," she answered. "I'm afraid that you not going to get much more information out me than that young lady. Perhaps you should question Councilor Freidrich. He's her closest ally."

Realizing the dismissal implied, the agent thanked Esmerelda for her time and made to leave only to pause at the office's door. "By the way councilor, who would say are the Speaker's friends?"

"Like any politician, Speaker Karkolova has many acquaintances, but few friends," she said. "If I had to name one, that would be Doubek Valkova."

"The Harbinger?"

"Indeed," the elf curtly replied.

Esmerelda opened a pocket watched and gave the agent several minutes to depart before pressing the intercom button. "Monsieur Coeur, has the inquisitor left?"

"Oui Madame," her secretary answered.

"That girl Speaker Karkolova sent over, Mademoiselle Fischer I think her name was, has she reported in Argyre?"

"A moment please," the man in the outer office said, followed quickly by an affirmation.

"Keep me apprised of her daily progress," Esmerelda said and then lifted her finger from the button.

"I don't know what game you're playing Regina," the elf whispered to herself. "But I'll not let you undo all of our efforts."

--

**A/N: Maybe I have this neurotic compulsion to dump on girls with short, dark hair. Nodoka, Madoka and Beatrix certainly have had more than their share of trials, tribulations and teen angst this go round.**

**Chapter title and heading are from the "Assassin's Creed" game.**

**Anna Van Eyck was a member of the class 3-J team for the broom race in chapters 211/212/213.**

"**Sim ipse pars, Sasuki Hiro" translates to "contract activate for Sasuki Hiro." Emily uses this without specifying an end time so her energy will continue to flow until she stops it.**


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: And so we continue.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Hild appears courtesy of MakuhariFan_01.**

**The following conventions are use: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**

**A Burning Heart**

**And he who held her held also in his hand a thing that was burning in flames, and he said to me "Behold thy heart"- **Dante Alighieri

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

Following centuries of tradition, the cadets mustered on the field where many of them had first learned to ride a broom. As Captain Hild approached, Cadet Sevensheep called her squad to attention and smartly saluted.

"First year Mage Knight Cadet Class reports not all present but accounted for," the blonde-haired girl announced in a clear voice.

"Who's missing?"

"Cadet Monroe," Emily had answered.

"Is she sick?" came her next question.

"I don't know Ma'me," the class leader responded in a lower tone. "She won't talk to me."

"Where is she?"

"In our quarters Captain."

Thus had the commandant's day begun. Having come up through the ranks like her young charges, the captain understood the pressures they were under. Less than 3 percent of students ever made it to this point, and odds were that only a third if those would be invited to join the Valkyrie Brigade. At the start of the term, she would have bet money that Beatrix Monroe would have been one of them. However, that was before the young man from the Mundus Vetus had shown up.

Cadet Monroe wasn't the first girl to be swept off her feet nor would she be the last. As a commanding officer, Captain Hild had a responsibility to help the young girl. Standing before the dormitory room's door, she weighed her options; there was the stern disciplinarian, tough and uncompromising, or the concerned friend, sympathetic with a shoulder made for crying on. Somewhere between those two, rocky shores, the Valkyrie had to steer a course.

After knocking once, and receiving no reply, Captain Hild tested the door and found it unlocked. She found the girl still dressed in her nightgown and curled on the bed in a fetal position. "Cadet Monroe," she gently called.

Slowly Beatrix got up from the bed and stood at a position less than acceptable for the parade ground. The teen's eyes were red and puffy. "Captain Hild," the cadet responded with a sniffle as a sleeve wiped the side of her face.

"You missed this morning's formation."

"Yes Ma'me."

"Are you ill?"

"No Ma'me," Beatrix replied with downcast eyes. "I'm … I'm not ill."

Raising an eyebrow but keeping silent, she waited for the girl to finish. "I," the cadet started and then paused. "I thought he was a different person."

"You are referring to Mister Sasuki?"

"Yes Ma'me," Beatrix whispered.

Having read a report from the Old World on one Sasuki Hiro, the captain knew that the purported hero was in fact a hired killer. Since Grand Mistress Seras had decided to treat the assassin as an emissary from Mahora's headmaster, Hild had kept this knowledge to herself and watched as the drama unfolded. All that was left now was to pick up the pieces.

"So what's your plan of action Cadet Monroe?"

"Plan of action?"

"Making a plan is critical to success whether on the battlefield or life in general," the Valkyrie answered. "You like the young man but feel conflicted now that you know the truth about him. Am I right?"

Beatrix nodded, prompting the captain to ask, "I'm sorry. What was that cadet?"

"Yes Ma'me," the teen replied in a louder voice.

"I am assigning you a mission cadet," Captain Hild said in her official tone. "Come up with a plan to resolve this conflict and implement it."

With downcast eyes, the teen responded, "I don't know how."

"Every situation is unique," she explained. "But a campaigner can always fall back on that old standby ... a full, frontal assault."

--

Although the building housing the campus clinic appeared small on the outside, the interior was a veritable maze of corridors. "Mister Oishi's room is in ward three," a cat-girl nurse dressed in a really short skirted uniform said. "You can't miss it; it's the one with the mage knights outside."

Beatrix, wearing her cadet uniform complete with scarlet cape, moved down the corridor, passing busy doctors, nurses and orderlies until she found the third ward. Beyond the nurse's station, a pair of knights in full armor, looking grim and silent as if cast from iron, stood outside of a room. Slightly intimidated, the cadet steeled herself and approached. The door opened as a pink uniformed woman backed out to a shout of "What the hell do you think I am! I don't perform on command!"

Two, stubby horns poked out from underneath the flustered nurse's cap as the woman turned and dashed down the hallway. Both watchmen remained silent as Beatrix walked over to them and held out a scrap of parchment. "I have permission to speak with Mister Oishi from Cadet Commandant Hild."

A knight reached a gauntleted fist out and a white light engulfed the paper as a spell verified its authenticity. The guard then motioned for her to enter. Stepping into the room, Beatrix heard a slam as the young patient slammed the top drawer of a dresser closed. With back towards her, and clad only in a hospital smock, the young vertere cursed as he bent to open the lower drawer. "Dammit! Where are my cigarettes?"

"Hello Kuro," she said, causing him to spin around. "You're, ah, looking well."

"Hi," Hiro replied as a surprised expression crossed the man's face. "I didn't expect to be seeing you again Bea … Miss Monroe."

"I was passing by," the girl lied. "And I thought I'd stop and see how you were doing. What was all of the shouting about?"

"They wanted me to provide a specimen," the assassin answered. "So how have you been?"

"Good," Beatrix lied again and then paused as he raised a brow at the traitorous puffiness around her eyes.

"No, I'm not good," the teen admitted. "Can we talk?"

"About what?"

"About you," she answered. "About me. About us."

"After yesterday, I don't think there's any 'us' to discuss."

Before she could respond, the door flung open and another nurse stormed in. The woman had a slight harelip that made her mouth seem to be frozen in a permanent sneer. Her grey hair had been gathered behind and pinned into a tight bun. "What do you think you're doing young man," a cold, severe voice crackled.

"Who are you?" Hiro asked.

"My name is Rache," the grey-haired woman replied. "I'm the chief of this ward and I'll thank you not to make my nurses' jobs more difficult."

Holding up a plastic cup, the head nurse asked, "Now, will you cooperate Mister Oishi?"

"Sorry Nurse Ratched," he replied, "but I'm not a trained pony."

Turning, the nurse walked over to a wall mounted disperser and pulled out a latex glove. "Since you seem a bit reluctant," the ward chief said while slipping on the glove, "I suppose I'll have to get it myself."

Both teens heard the sharp smack as the woman released the glove's bottom edge and let it snap against bare skin. "This is going to hurt you a lot more than it will me," Rache warned.

In an instant, Hiro snatched up the specimen cup and raced to the bathroom door.

--

They sat on the edge of the bed and stared straight ahead as Hiro craved the sweet release of a cigarette. "Why do you do it?" Beatrix had asked.

'Butt out of my business,' was his first thought, but Hiro bit back that response. A strange memory pushed its way to the front of his thoughts. Once, while accompanying his grandfather on business in the Philippines, he had watched an American film dubbed in Tagalog. Recalling the movie's dramatic, courtroom scene, the assassin pictured himself on the witness stand in place of the crusty, old colonel while a dark-haired girl wearing a US Navy uniform cross examined him.

'You want answers?' Hiro challenged.

'I think I'm entitled to them,' Beatrix responded.

'You want answers?' he shouted louder.

'I want the truth!'

Taking a deep breath first, he asked "Do you know what ninjas are?"

"I only know how they're portrayed on the HD," the girl answered. "Sneak attackers dressed in black pajamas and masks that toss throwing stars around."

"Many centuries ago in Japan, it was common for professions to pass down through families," Hiro said. "Ninjas were trained from birth in the arts of stealth, concealment and disguise. They made the perfect spies and assassins, employed by samurai who wouldn't dirty their own hands in such a manner."

"I never knew my parents, hell I don't know if I'm an orphan or not," he continued. "I was raised by a man I called my 'grandfather'. Like the ninja clans of old, grandfather taught me his trade, that of the assassin."

Pausing, he let memories of the aged man wash over him. "I never questioned what he did or why; never asked if this was right or wrong. It was the way it was."

"I'm a murderer pure and simple," he quietly declared. "I don't ask for understanding or forgiveness."

"If you weren't," the girl hesitantly replied, "what would you do?"

"I don't know. I've never given it any thought."

A hand reached over and grasped his. Hiro looked up at Beatrix, into eyes wet and shinny. "If I asked," the girl breathlessly said, "would you stop?"

Hiro could feel the teen's gaze upon him, staring so hard as if eyes could bore through flesh and bone down to his soul. "The world doesn't work that way," he replied, looking away. "You don't just decide one day to change your life's direction."

"Who said anything about one day?" Beatrix responded. "Haven't you been changing your direction ever since you stepped into the Mundus Magicus?"

"You didn't have to fight Magnusson," the cadet accused. "You could have called the school authorities and let them handle it."

"Nobody paid you to warn those people in the area back at Gladcon," she continued. "And how about stopping that bomber in Phoenicis?"

"I can't conveniently forget about all the baggage from my past," the assassin replied. "When I go back to my world …"

"Then don't," the dark-haired girl quickly cut in. "Stay here and be Emily's partner."

Hiro's eyes gaped at her in astonishment. "Why would I want to be Emily's partner?"

"Well, you two do have a pactio," she answered in a confused voice. "I thought …"

"We only made one so Emily wouldn't be fighting both perytons at the same time," he explained. "I imagine she'll burn that card at the first opportunity."

Beatrix's hand trembled atop of his. In a voice little more than a whisper she said, "Then stay here … with me."

Like in his dream, Hiro stood at the fork in the road. One branch would bring him to Beatrix while the other would allow him to fulfill a promise to a girl who couldn't care less. Thoughts crashed into each other like one of those crazy races on a figure eight shaped track. "Aren't Valkyries supposed to remain, uh unattached?"

"Yes."

Turning her down would be so easy, he realized. No need to delve into subjects best left alone, just a flat refusal and she'd leave and that would be the end. It wasn't as if he owned anything more. Yet …

"Before you burn any bridges," Hiro finally said, "there's someone I should tell you about."

Watching her reactions the whole time, the assassin told Beatrix the story of his misadventure at Mahora. "And when I woke up, the headmaster offered me a job."

Throughout the entire recitation, the cadet's hand had remained upon his. "Do you still love her?"

"Yes, but Ayaka's better off without me," he answered.

"And you think I would be too," Beatrix said in a tone that made it clear it wasn't a question.

"Yes, I do," he said. "You deserve better than to finish second to a selfish dream."

Before he could say anything else, soft lips pressed against his. Arms encircled each other as the couple slowly fell back on the mattress.

"I'll thank you not to make decisions on what is best for me Kuro, I mean Hiro." The grin on her face belied the reproach of her words. "As for finishing second …" Beatrix left the rest unsaid as lips meet once more.

As their kiss deepened, certain reactions made themselves known as the young man realized how thin the fabric was of the gown he wore. Salvation, or its opposite, arrived as Grandmistress Sears and Professor Akashi entered the room.

"Cadet Monroe," the grandmistress called out. "What is the meaning of this?"

From her vantage atop Hiro, Beatrix assumed her most serious expression. "With all due respect," the girl answered, "I'm following the commandant's orders."

--

**Girl's Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

Breath, warm and soft, tickled her cheek as the girl sleeping next to her exhaled. A delicate arm was draped below Setsuna's chest. Despite its appearance, that arm possessed a strength that tenaciously clamped down whenever the swordswoman tried to move out from underneath it. Sharing Konoka's bed proved to be more of a hindrance that the shinmei-ryu had anticipated. But every time she suggested that a pallet on the floor, or even in the loft above the closet, would be more practical, her shukun adamantly refused.

"Don't you like me anymore Se-chan?" Konoka had pouted, looking forlorn like an abandoned puppy. Her capitulation followed as surely as sunset followed sunrise.

Of course Setsuna liked Konoka, and that was the crux of the problem. As a shinmei-ryu, the hanyo maid was pledged to protect the other girl. As a ministra mage, she was likewise bound by duty to ensure her partner's safety. However, as important as those considerations were, they paled when compared to the fact that Kono-chan was her friend. And as their friendship grew closer, it had become correspondingly more difficult to balance with these other obligations.

A creak of the bathroom door announced that Asuna had finished dressing. A few minutes more and the bell-wearing teen scooted out the door and on her way to work. How ironic that a princess, possessor of a grand and noble linage, rose at four in the morning to deliver newspapers. Even more ironic was that the heirs of two famous families called her friend. 'And Negi-san makes a third,' the swordswoman thought.

Trying to sit up, she was stopped by that tenaciously strong arm. In accordance with their morning ritual, Setsuna bent near the other girl's ear and whispered, "I like you too Kono-chan." Like a magic phrase found in a story book, the arm relaxed enough for her to slide out from between the sheets.

Arms reached for the ceiling as sluggish muscles stretched and tightly wound joints loosened. A glance found her nodachi in its proper place by the head board. Named Evening Calm, the sword had a glorious history protecting the lands of the Sakura Domain. As a member of the Crimson Wing, the future head of the Kansai Magic Association had added to its luster. Eishun had entrusted both Yuunagi and his daughter's welfare into her care. The dual honors were more than an unworthy such as she deserved, but the hanyo had done, and would continue to do, the utmost to justify the man's faith in her.

In the bathroom, she turned on the tap and listened to the gurgle of water as it filled the sink. Cold and wet it splashed against her face, causing skin to tingle in response. Standing in front of the mirror, Setsuna removed a pair of contact lenses and discarded the bits of plastic that colored her eyes brown. Fiery red irises reflected back at her.

Before her trial in Kyoto, Aoyama-dono had asked Setsuna if she was happy. The question had caught her by surprise and the shinmei-ryu still wasn't sure what the Soke of the school had meant by it. She had been confused by Tsuruko's words, but the woman's final warning was clear enough. "Remember that when you look into a mirror, the person who looks back is just as important."

Setsuna stared at her image, noting the thin and sharply pointed face with two demonic eyes. It was a child's face still, not yet a woman's nor a warrior's. A face of someone who very much wanted to be strong enough to protect those she loved, and yet fell miserably short of the goal. Eight, long years had been devoted to mastering the sword, and it hadn't been enough. What was she missing?

Eyes that betrayed her mixed heritage and would make her an object of fear continued to stare back. "We are what you are missing," they accused. "We are you, and yet you fear us, you loath us, you deny our very existence."

She recoiled from the imagined words but couldn't tear her gaze away from the mirror's polished surface. "Embrace us and be whole," they demanded. "Accept the truth of who you are or you will never achieve your heart's desire."

Desperately her fingers pierced the seal of a new package and forced lenses in. Safe, normal, brown eyes meet her gaze but it was only a façade. Setsuna knew her father was a crow demon; she had fought his murderer in the ruins of Old Ostia. For a short time, at Konoka's insistence, she stopped applying the dye and lenses, walking about openly, but quickly donned them upon returning to the Mundus Vetus.

'Perhaps I should learn about my heritage,' the student mused. But who could she turn to for help? Certainly not Kotaro! Another thought came to mind and Setsuna's lips pulled back in an expression of distaste. 'Ugh! Not her either!'

'But if not the lilim,' the face in the mirror asked, 'then who?'

--

**Beef Bowl, Mahora Japan**

A sour-faced waiter, the same man Asakura-san had previously argued with, set trays of food before the group gathered around the restaurant table and quickly departed. Phillip gripped the chopsticks and lifted the single strand of onion from his order of Gyudon with extra onions. Apparently the waiter still held a grudge. Dropping the piece back into the bowl, the teacher opted for his soup instead.

Negi sat to his left, with Asakura-san seated on the boy's left. Chamo perched upon the reporter's shoulder, and appeared to be fascinated with the view of the girl's cleavage. Konoka was to Phillip's right with Setsuna on her other side while Sayo's misty form filled the chair at the opposite end of the table.

"What's this about Konoka-san?" he asked.

"Yesterday, I visited Sayo-san's sister and brother-in-law," the girl explained as she set a slender, leather-bound volume on the table alongside a black and white photograph of a man in uniform. "Kimiaki-san sent these items with me."

"Father's book," Sayo exclaimed upon recognizing the tome. "Why did she give you our father's diary?"

"I was told that you would need it in order to fulfill a promise to your father," Konoka answered. "Something about helping him to find his happiness."

A puzzled expression filled the ghost's face.

"How are these things supposed to help?" Kazumi asked.

"Aisaka Haru and his family came to Mahora in the spring of 1938," Konoka answered. "Prior to that, Lieutenant Aisaka served as a pilot aboard the aircraft carrier Hosho."

"I … I remember," Sayo said. "Mother, sister and I watched as the fleet sailed out of the harbor for China."

"China?" Negi asked. "Why were they going to China?"

"They went to punish the Chinese for the death of a Japanese officer," the ghostly student answered. "At least that's what everybody said."

"I think the Chinese had a different opinion of that," Phillip commented. "That would be about the time of the Battle of Shanghai wouldn't it?"

"You're familiar with military history sensei?" Setsuna asked and then a "duh!" expression slapped her across the face.

"A little bit," he replied. "Combat aviation was still developing and how the Imperial Navy used their aircraft in Shanghai was avidly studied."

"More important was what happened to Aisaka-san on the ground," Konoka interjected.

"What do you mean?" the reporter asked.

"According to his diary, Lieutenant Aisaka accompanied an army squad to prevent the escape of Chinese soldiers from Shanghai," she answered. "From his description, it sounded as if they encountered only civilians trying to flee the battle."

"What happened Konoka-san?" Negi asked.

"They were all gunned down," she grimly replied. "The lone survivor was an infant that Aisaka-san shot instead of letting a soldier bayonet."

Stunned faces glanced at one another as Sayo cried "Father." Translucent tears rolled down ghostly cheeks.

"I'm sorry Sayo-san," Konoka told her weeping classmate. "There's still more to it."

"What?" the ghost asked between sobs.

"Your father took some cuttings from the scene of the massacre," she explained, "and brought them to Mahora where your sister planted them."

"The garden?" Sayo asked in amazement.

"That stand of tall flowers," Phillip said. "But why?"

"Aisaka-san knew his daughters possessed magic," Konoka answered. "One was skilled with plant magic and the other was destined to become a powerful exorcist."

Once again, a stunned silence settled around the table. Disbelief surged over Sayo to be followed by fear. "No!" the girl cried as she fell to the floor and pounded its tiles. "No!"

Phillip looked up to find their waiter scratching his head at the kids huddled around the floor. "Lost contact lens," the American said.

Moments later, they had regained their seats. "I take it that the barghest is somehow related to all of this?" Phillip asked.

"The spirits of those slain civilians," Negi responded.

"So should we burn those flowers?" the red-head asked.

"No!" Setsuna's sudden outburst caught them all by surprise.

"The plants confine those spirits," the shinmei-ryu informed them. "Burn them and you'll release vengeful ghosts upon the entire school."

"Does the diary explain how these spirits were to be put to rest Konoka-san?" Phillip asked and his student sadly shook her head no.

"It's too bad we can't talk to Sayo-san's father," Negi mused aloud. The boy looked thoughtful for a moment and then turned to Phillip who felt a chill run up his spine. "Or can we?"

--

Phillip knelt before the old photograph, facing both Konoka and Sayo. Negi, Asakura and Chamo sat nervously on the edge of the couch as Setsuna stood behind Konoka, with hand near Yunagi's hilt. "I'm not sure this is going to work," he said, recalling the results of touching Nagi Springfield's picture.

"You only need to try sensei," his student attempted to reassure him.

"Is there something I should say?" Phillip asked. "Like 'Aisaka Haru come forth'!"

"You called out Sayo-san's name the first day of class, right?" Konoka asked. Upon his nod, she continued with "Just do that."

Hesitantly, he touched the photo and called out the deceased man's name. No response came and Phillip exhaled in relief. "I guess," the man started to say when the lights flickered and then went out.

"Power outage," Negi said after a minute. "Let me call the service desk."

"Don't move Negi-sensei," Setsuna warned as the nodachi hissed from its scabbard. "Can't you feel it?"

A hot, stifling draft flowed through the darkened room, carrying the scent of gunpowder. Sounds of rifle fire and screams of the wounded came, dimly at first and then louder. Phantasmal figures surrounded them as Phillip heard the murmur of many people speaking. Like the song behind the witiko, anger and the desire for vengeance was palpable in those voices.

"Stay back!" Setsuna commanded. Yunagi blazed with power and the invading spirits drew back as she brandished her blade.

Konoka stood and in a loud voice called, "We seek the ghost of Aisaka Haru. Let him come to us."

"The murderer of children is ours and we will not release him," many voices replied as one.

"What will it take to release him?" Konoka asked.

"Blood is required for blood."

"You have already had this girl's blood," she said, pointing to Sayo.

"The killers must give as much blood as was spilled that day," they demanded.

"That price is too high."

"Father!" Sayo's anguished cry echoed. "Father!" she shrieked again as a wind spiraled out from where she floated. Phillip managed to grab the photo before it blew away and then tumbled to the floor. People, furniture, books and more were flung about as the unseen force rippled outward. "Father!"

When the lights came back on, it looked to Phillip as if a twister had ripped through his and Negi's living room. The menacing spirits were gone but Sayo lay curled on the floor like a frightened child, and kept calling for her father.

--

**Demon Realms**

Looking over the grey wasteland that stretched out in all directions, one could believe it devoid of life. But here and there, small creatures resembling alligator lizards with mottled white and yellow skin scurried across the ground. Named imps by denizens of the wastes, the tiny creatures possessed razor sharp teeth and a voracious appetite out of proportion to their size. Swarms of imps had been known to strip settlements bare of anything edible in minutes. So the low rumble in the distance was a sound not often heard.

A black carriage pulled by a team of four beasts thundered into view. Hooves churned up the fine, metal shards that covered the ground and raised a deadly cloud in their wake. Though they appeared like jet black horses, a skeletal neck and head rose from their shoulders while red flame burned in otherwise empty eye sockets.

Crack! A headless coachman, dressed in funeral finery, furious snapped a whip of bones. Imps scattered as the carriage sped by. Those slower than their fellows were crushed by hoof or wheel; their corpses were mobbed as survivors feasted on the remains. Still the coachman continued to spur the team to greater speed.

A sulphurous stench indicated their goal was near. Savagely pulling back on the reins, the coach slowed and then halted before a lake of bubbling tar. Emerging head first, three man-like figures rose from the lake and waded towards the shore. Light from the blood red sun overhead glinted off of the manikin's silvery bodies. Featureless faces regarded the intruding carriage as arms ending with metal hooks instead of hands raised in silent warning.

Creak. The door of the carriage swung open and its lone passenger stepped outside. From beneath the figure's hat flowed long, blonde hair that reached his shoulders. Count Von Herrman's lips curled into a half smile as he glanced at the menacing creatures. "I have come to see your master," the demon announced. "Stand aside. I have little patience for underlings."

Silver flashed in the gloom as the warriors sprung to the attack. A sharp hook swung as if to gut open the count's belly, however Herrman had vanished only reappear behind his opponents. Casually the count kicked, sending an attacker crashing into the coach's side. Wilhelm pulled another of the metal demons in front of himself to take the third's decapitating strike. His hand smashed forward disintegrating both attackers' mid-sections.

Legs and torsos fell away from one another, but as the lay upon the ground, Von Herrman could see the metal flow back together. Grasping a limb in each hand, he lifted the silver warriors and contemptuously flung them into the lake. The demon's gaze fell upon the third creature's smooth face.

"I know you can hear me Temeluchus," the count said in his suavest voice. "I would speak with you on an urgent matter."

Metal flowed across the monstrosity's face, forming a pair of lips. "It is my wish to be left alone Graf Von Herrman," the mouth replied. "I do not care to get involved again in your human associates' affairs."

Wilhelm smiled like an unctuous servant before responding. "And would the Lord of Torments be interested in sealing our realm so that outsiders could no longer summon us?"

"You spout madness," the other voice angrily exclaimed. "There is no power in Tartarus that can do such."

"True enough," he agreed. "But there is one in the human world who can."

"Liar! No human possesses such power!"

"I speak not of a human," the count calmly replied, "but she who is known as the Imperial Princess of the Twilight."

The creature fell silent as its master considered his words. Temeluchus must have made his decision as the silver warrior lifted its arm towards the lake. "Then enter of your own free will Graf Von Herrman."

Wilhelm turned to see a geyser of tar shoot high into the air. It fell back down, forming an arch over a dark hole. Floating above the lake's surface, the count noted that the gap held a stairway leading into the depths. Booted feet touched the first step, and finding it held firm, began the long descent.

--

**A/N: I guess I can consider this my Jack Nicholson chapter. Hiro's courtroom scene is from 'A Few Good Men' while Nurse Ratched is a character from 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'.**

**Rache is German for revenge.**

**Heading and title are from chapter III of the 'La Vita Nuova'.**

**On August 9, 1937, First Lieutenant Isao Oyama was shot to death by members of the Chinese Peace Preservation Force as the Japanese officer attempted to enter the Hongqiao Airport. This event served as a pretext for the invasion of Shanghai by the Imperial Army.**


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N: If you've read my profile, you probably realize that I've been into Role Playing Games for awhile (when D&D was Basic or Advanced instead of 1st, 2nd, 3rd edition and so on). I've never gone in for the live action role play, but I imagine Mahora has the resources to do a much better job (what with real dragons and dungeons).**

**My thanks to both Ansem_Man and MakuhariFan_01 for their help and opinions.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Other characters used in this chapter are of my own invention.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, -telepathy-, and _memories_

**Wandering Through a Dark Wood**

… **I awoke in the dark wood where the true way was wholly lost –** Dante Alighieri

--

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

"_Cadet Monroe!" Seras had sternly addressed the student mage. "Do you have any idea what this could do to your chances of becoming a Valkyrie?"_

"_Yes I do Grandmistress," the girl had answered. "Marriage or having children are grounds for immediate dismissal according to regulation …"_

"_You needn't quote me chapter and paragraph," the woman scolded. An expression less reprimanding, more concerned, appeared on her face. "Is that what you want cadet?"_

"_No it isn't," Beatrix had replied. "But I don't want to give him up either."_

"_What if it comes to a choice between one or the other?"_

"_Then I'll cross that bridge when I come to it Grandmistress."_

So had her conversation with Cadet Monroe gone. Being in charge of the many schools of Ariadne carried too many responsibilities for her to get involved with one student's problems. But as a former commander of the Valkyrie Brigade, Victoria Seras hated to lose someone with the potential to excel. It hurt, just like years ago when she lost another promising student when the girl's parents died. If she hadn't a reason to dislike that boy from the Old World before, the grandmistress had one now.

Squaring her shoulders, she opened the door and walked into a white cloud. Both men were puffing away on cigarettes, emitting smoke like a couple of chimneys. "Do you two mind? This is a hospital."

Cigarettes were promptly extinguished, though the cloud lingered in the air. "Mister Sasuki, Ariadne owes you a debt of gratitude," the woman said. "But I find your conduct towards certain students under my care highly irresponsible."

"Is it any less irresponsible for your students to stalk him?" Akashi asked. "We've noted about six different cadets following him since our arrival."

"I don't need to answer for exercising well deserved caution."

"No but you do need to answer for placing my assistant's life in danger," the professor shot back. "Or are you going to deny it was your intention to use him to flush out Magnusson?"

For a moment, the woman was shocked speechless. While Seras hadn't known it was the fencing master who had infiltrated the school, she had suspected someone on her staff of being a spy. "Oh come now Professor Akashi," she finally said. "Why would I use a complete stranger for that?"

"I don't know," the middle-aged man answered. "Maybe you find people without loyalty to you or Ariadne expendable."

Little veins in her forehead pulsed in response to the accusation. "As I said, Mister Sasuki has our gratitude, but I believe it is time for you two to depart."

"Is that an order?" the professor asked.

"No," she answered. "It is a strongly encouraged suggestion."

**--**

**Teacher's Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

"Is Ishikawa-sensei in?" had become the dreaded result every time her maid answered the door. This morning, Kugimiya-san was standing in the hallway, looking like a bewildered chick as it gazed outside of the nest for the first time. Evangeline had been expecting the girl's visit, but that didn't mean the little vampire looked forward to their talk.

Not wanting to speak in front of the lilim, she took the dark-haired girl to one of the many parks dotting the campus. As they settled onto a bench, Madoka spoke. "It was all an illusion, right?" A weary face regarded her expectantly. "I mean, that was all stuff you made up for the test?"

"The spell I used is called a Phantasmagoria," Evangeline explained. "To put it in simple terms, the caster creates an outline for the spell to follow, but the target's subconscious mind fills in the details."

Seeing the teen's confused expression, she continued. "I created a script that called for somebody to play the sin of wrath, and you chose Kagurazaka-san for that role."

"Then Markham-sensei?"

"Was whom you chose to represent lust."

Watching the girl's fantasy with the teacher play out, Evangeline had felt the stirrings of jealousy. Students developing crushes on a teacher weren't unusual, especially when one looked at her former classmates' infatuation with Boya. Even she wondered from time to time how much like his father Negi was. However, when the Queen of Darkness had a man's interest, she preferred exclusivity. At least until she was finished with him.

"Oh God," Madoka groaned as the girl's head dropped into open hands. "What am I going to do?"

"You are aware that Markham-san is close to thirty years older than you?" Evangeline asked. "By the time you reach his current age, you could well be a widow."

"I'm not thinking about marriage."

"Oh, you want to have a fling and then go your separate ways?"

"Not that either," the teen answered with a touch of irritation.

"So what do you want Kugimiya-san?"

"I don't know."

They sat, wrapped in their own thoughts for awhile, before Madoka spoke again. "Have you ever cared about someone before Ishikawa-sensei?"

Despite her well earned reputation, there had been many people that Evangeline had cared about over the centuries: her mother and father of course, friends from the village she had grown up in, Lorenzo de Medici, her patron in Florence, and the young sculptor he sponsored, the English poet Marlowe and more. "Yes," she admitted.

"I'm not exactly an expert on relationships," the undead mage advised, "but maybe it would be best to be completely open with Markham-san and tell him how you feel."

"You mean confess?" the girl asked. "What if I get rejected?"

"Rejection is a risk we all face. Ask Izumi-san or your other classmates," she told Madoka, fully expecting such a reaction by the American. "If it happens, dust yourself off and carry on with life."

--

**Mahora, Japan**

Heartless or nobody? Mihai slipped the plastic straw into his coke cup and slowly stirred its contents. Sticky brown liquid and ice swirled around in a clockwise fashion, but refused to yield any of the universe's secrets this day. He was a golem, an artificial creation instead of a person like his classmates seated around the café's table. In so far as he could determine, thought dictated his actions; and if a French philosopher could be believed, that meant he existed as surely as anyone else. However, the youngster couldn't shake the feeling that he was missing something that all of the others possessed.

In the game Kotaro introduced him to, people could lose their hearts, their emotions, and become empty husks while those loose emotions roamed as destructive forces. Since he lacked a heart-shaped insignia, Mihai guessed he was a Nobody. But if so, where had his heart gone? And did anyone here possess a Keyblade to set it free?

"Mihai-kun," a voice called. "Are you okay?"

He glanced up at the concerned-looking girl. Yuki-chan was in the fourth grade class he attended, along with Haruki-kun and the others. Resting on top of her short, blonde hair was a felt cap that was forever blowing off her head. "I'm fine," he answered. "I was just thinking about a game Kotaro-kun and I played a couple nights ago."

"Is Kotaro-kun coming?" one of the others asked.

"No," he replied. "I don't think he's back from his campout."

The squinty-eyed girl had asked for Kotaro's help in setting up some "challenges" to use her words. Kaede-san was apparently running some sort of party out in the woods and needed the boy's "unique abilities" to provide a proper "atmosphere" for the adventure. She described it as an extended game of hide and seek combined with live role playing. It sounded fun, but Mihai hadn't been invited. "Maybe next time," the girl had told him.

Ice rattled as he lifted the drink cup to take a sip. Light reflected off the cubes, giving a momentary appearance of a face as familiar as his own. "I'll be back," the youngster called as he got up and ran to the nearest men's room. After locking the door, Mihai went to the sink and turned the spigot on. Lowering his head over the sink, he splashed lukewarm water against his face. Standing back up, his glance fell across the mirror and noted that the face from the cup reflected over his shoulder.

Spinning about, he regarded this newcomer. "Do I know you?"

A face so like his own, only a few years older, stared back in turn. "If you don't know me," the stranger replied, "then you don't know yourself."

"I'm afraid I don't know myself," Mihai calmly told him. "Who are we?"

"It seems Habbibi-san was unable to restore all of you," his older self said, "but no matter. We are called Tertium; you may refer to me as Fate."

Mihai waited for the revelation accompanying the pronouncement to manifest and was keenly disappointed when it didn't. "And why is Fate addressing itself?"

"To ensure that I can bypass the wards around Mahora," the other answered. "As long as you remain here, I can come and go as I please."

The door knob rattled as an irate voice called out, "Hurry up in there!"

Ignoring the shout, Mihai continued to stare at his older self. "Do you hold a Keyblade?"

Fate gave him an uncomprehending look as droplets formed and began to slide down the other boy's face. Transforming into a liquid column, the self-named Fate flowed away, leaving a puddle on the tiles.

As he stepped out of the washroom, a fat man wearing a floral shirt and plaid shorts snorted in irritation. "About time kid," the man commented while pushing his way past. "What the hell! Where'd all this water come from?"

Fate must be one of the Heartless Mihai decided while walking back to his classmates. That still left him to wonder who the Keyblade Master was.

--

Branches snapped as her feet pounded through the woods. Breath came in ragged gulps while from behind she heard the baying of dogs on the hunt. Sister Kaede had told them this was a game to help with training; however the pain in her side begged to differ. A backpack banged against her back as short legs struggled to keep up the pace. Even her sister began to pull away as sounds of pursuit drew closer. "Fuka" she had tried to call out, but could only manage a gasp.

Just when Fumika thought all was lost, Yuna was there. The taller girl threw Fumika, pack and all, across her shoulders and ran. A cliff face loomed ahead with a line of trees against it. Yuna stopped in front of a pine and let her scramble onto the lowest limb before the ballplayer climbed up as effortlessly as a squirrel. Fumika envied the larger girl's strength and speed; the grace with which Yuna moved thought the branches. She barely had the strength to cling to her perch.

"C'mon Fumika-san," Yuna had called. "You need to get higher up."

"I can't do it," she said as muscles refused to budge an inch further. Yet when the first, jet black hound bounded into view, Fumika found herself several meters higher without any idea of how she'd gotten there. Meanwhile, the dog pack milled about the base of the trees the party occupied, yapping and occasionally rising on hind legs to gaze at their prey.

"So what do we do now?" her sister asked from the neighboring tree.

"I see a ledge above you Yuna-san," Ayaka said.

"Those branches don't look sturdy enough," the ballplayer responded. "I don't think they'll hold me."

"What about you Fumika-san?" Ayaka asked. "Could you make it up there?"

Looking up to the ledge iincho-san had pointed out, she noted that the upper branches of the pine would give easy access. Yet those branches appeared a million kilometers above the ground.

Back in California, she had admired her teacher's courage in facing the demon. Sensei had admitted to being frightened too. "I don't think bravery is about not being afraid," Markham-sensei had said. "I think it's more doing what you know you have to even when you're scared out of your wits." Yuna slung the coil of rope about her shoulders as the girl took a deep breath and inched upwards.

Branches reached out like hands to snag bits of clothing while a shower of needles fell into her face, but still she rose. Eyes stung as hands sticky with reason grasped the swaying top. Searching for a hand hold on the rock face, her fingers encountered a small crevasse and dug in. Dangling against the cliff, her feet frantically scrambled for a purchase as panic started to set in. Images spun wildly through her mind as arms strained to lift her higher. She was never going to make it; in moment her fingers would give out and she'd fall to screaming to the ground. But the others were counting on her.

Soles encountered an outcrop in the cliff allowing the girl to scramble over the lip. Muscles trembled as she lay panting on her side. From below, Fuka called out "Are you okay sister?"

"I'm fine," she gasped, her voice barely able to carry to her own ears. "A piece of cake."

--

Every bit of her body ached as Yuna clambered up the rope. "Remind me again why we're traipsing all over these mountains."

"We're searching for the Forbidden Temple," Ayaka answered. "We need to find the kidnapped diplomat and rescue her before she winds up as a sacrifice to gods with unpronounceable names."

Climbing to the cliff's top brought them to a narrow, u-shaped valley between two lines of ridges. Walking in the lead, Yuna gazed at the surrounding boulders and brush. 'Perfect place for an ambush,' she thought as her head jerked around to a harsh "Kaw!"

From a nearby tree, a raven croaked a second time and winged away, heading deeper into the valley. Carefully, her hand unsnapped the holster's flap. As the ballplayer started to step through a pile of leaves, Fuka shouted "Stop!"

Confused, she stared as her classmate knelt down and slowly brushed the litter away, revealing a strand of braided vines. "Ha! Thought so!" the older twin said while pressing down on the trip wire. In response, a canvas sack attached to more vines swung down from an overhead branch and smacked against another tree, releasing a white cloud of flour.

"A booby trap," Yuna muttered.

"And you were the boob that nearly stumbled into it," Ayaka remarked. "Fuka-san, take the lead and see if you can spot anything else ahead."

Taking off her pack, the girl rummaged through it and removed two, meter long sections of wood that she fitted together. The backpack rattled as it was hefted into place.

"What have you got in there?" Yuna asked.

"Just the standard stuff: a mirror, hammer, spikes, fire starting kit and a couple of paintball mines," Fuka answered and then grinned at her surprise. "A good rogue is always prepared."

Fumika chimed in next. "You should try adventuring in some of Paru-san's dungeons."

Avoiding several more traps along the way, the party found a thicket of pines at the valley's end. Fuka went in to have a look and came back as white as a sheet. "Dr-dr-dragon," the self-proclaimed rogue stuttered. Black scales glittered in the sun as the creature basked on a sandy patch of ground.

"That's Zazie-san," Yuna whispered and started forward when the class rep laid a hand on her shoulder.

"And those ninjas that attacked our camp last night where probably Nagase-san," Ayaka reminded her. "Play this in character."

A pair of slit eyes opened as the dragon yawned, showing off a mouth of teeth. -Come out where I can see you,- a familiar voice echoed in her mind. Yuna stepped into the open with her hands in plain sight.

-I can smell the others,- the dragon told her. -It's rude not to introduce everyone.-

Three more people stepped into the clearing. "Must be your Channel Number 5," Yuna whispered to the class rep.

"It's Christian Dior for your information," the blonde snapped back. Aloud, Ayaka said, "Oh noble, um dragon, we apologize for disturbing your repose. We're just passing through you see …"

-On your way to the temple to stop the sacrifice,- the voice said. -You'll never reach it in time.-

"What do you mean?" Yuna asked.

-You have to scale the valley wall behind us,- the dragon answered. -That should take you most of the day.-

"There has to be another way," Ayaka said

-Of course I could fly you to the top,- the dragon suggested. -For a small fee.-

"What sort of fee," the class rep asked.

-Leave behind one of your companions for me to eat,- came the reply. -Three of you should be more than enough to …-

"That is so not going to happen," Yuna exclaimed.

-Have it your way then,- the beast said. -Maybe you'll make it on your own.-

"How about a contest?" a grinning Yuna asked. "If I win, you fly all of us to the temple."

-And if you lose?-

"You still fly the others and I stay behind as your fee."

"Yuna!" the class rep shouted. "That is the most ridiculous …"

-I accept.- the dragon responded. -What is the contest?-

"Jan-ken-pon," she answered while forming a fist.

Two fists, one flesh and the other scaled, pumped as the twins chanted "Saisho wa gu!"

Both fists remained clenched so the contestants double pumped to the chant of "Aiko desho!" with both hands opening completely at the end. A single fist pump accompanied by a shouted "Sho!" followed. Cheers erupted as the dragon extended two fingers while Yuna kept her fist closed.

-Don't celebrate so quickly,- the dragon reminded them. -There's a second round yet.-

With hands at her side, the dark-haired girl held still as the Narutakis chanted "Acchi muite hoi!" On "hoi" both hand and dragonish muzzle pointed skywards.

Lying upon a dragon's back was less than comfortable Yuna discovered with her knees tucked behind the creature's wings and arms about its neck. Membranous wings stretched out as the dragon literally leapt into the air. Bracing for a jarring landing, she was surprised to find them slowly rising. "This completely screws with the law of gravity you know," the girl remarked.

-Aren't you lucky dragons don't study law,- Zazie replied. –Though it does help when your body naturally produces lighter than air gas.-

"Does that mean you're full of nothing but hot air?"

-It's a long way to the ground Yuna-san,- the other warned. -And is it just me or have you've put on a few pounds?-

"Hey!"

-Hang on tight.-

Muscles moved beneath her as wings beat, propelling the pair upwards. Catching a thermal, they soared higher, giving Yuna a startling view of the city nestled within a ring of mountains. At this height, she began to shiver in the chill air. Zazie unexpectedly dove down, as rapidly as a falcon upon some unsuspecting rabbit. The terror struck girl hugged her classmate's neck tighter as they plummeted towards the ground and finally dared to breathe when the dragon leveled out and skimmed over the tree tops.

"I need one of those little bags," she moaned.

--

Ayaka gazed across the field of columns, rising like swords lifted in salute. At first look, the class rep was amazed by what appeared as Grecian ruins, but soon recognized them as props built for a previous school festival. Still, it must have taken Nagase-san some effort to have them set up. Yuna nervously paced back and forth, stopping every little while to practice drawing one of the girl's holstered guns.

"Relax," she told her classmate. "Wearing yourself out fretting won't help anyone."

"I'm not fretting," the other girl commented. "I don't like all this waiting."

"Neither do I," she replied. "But …"

Ayaka's words were forgotten as two, black garbed shapes darted from around a pair of pillars and raced towards where she and Yuna stood. Removing their masks, the twins reported that the temple was a half kilometer away and open on all sides.

"Any guards?" Yuna asked.

"There's a pair patrolling on all four sides," Fuka answered. "They look just like those spiky haired robots from the festival."

"Just what we needed," Ayaka complained to no one in particular. "Mooks armed with strip beams."

"But they look different," Fumika said. When asked how, the girl answered that each one wore a pack with colored lights on their backs.

"Radios?" Yuna wondered.

"Portable generators," the class rep said without hesitation. "According to what Hakase-san said, the World Tree is what powered them during the festival, so they need an energy source to move."

"If only we could sneak past them," the dark-haired teen moaned. "What I wouldn't give for an OctoCamo suit."

"I can't help you with that," Fumika remarked. "Would a cardboard box do?"

"What the …" Yuna stared in disbelief. "Do you two have bags of holding or something?"

--

Scanning the column studded field, Number 1H758A noted an anomaly. Sensors zoomed in a rectangular object made out some kind of organic material as it moved between two pillars. No heat was emitted from the object, yet comparing images stored in memory confirmed that the object did change its position relative to the stone columns. After motioning to his brother, Number 1H758B, he walked forward with a precisely measured pace of 1.07 meters.

The object continued to move slowly across the ground until the robot was nearly on top of it. Training optical sensors revealed that a string was connected to either side of the box. A metal fist covered in flesh-like plastic smashed the box flat. Turning the remains over revealed a set of connected olive green colored tubes that one of the strings was attached to. A sudden tug on the string pulled the switch and a cloud of white paint sprayed out, fouling the machine's optics. Audio sensors detected a ker-chunk from the southwest. Figures rushed him from both sides, and as Number 1H758A turned to deal with one, the other flipped off the generator's power toggle.

--

"Breath out," Natsumi said and Chizuru exhaled. She could feel her roommate pull the bodice strings tight and then tie them off."Okay," the red-headed actress told her.

Gazing at her reflection, the teen adjusted the metal decorations that covered little more of her breasts than a set of pasties would. 'How could Ayaka wear something like this?' she wondered while staring at the expanse of skin revealed by her split skirt. 'I know my classmates are exhibitionists, but really.'

"You look great Chizu-nee," Natsumi said with what sounded like a trace of envy.

How tiresome it all got, this preoccupation with appearance. People looked at her and rarely though of anything beyond her figure. However, just because her bust was larger than other students didn't mean she enjoyed the leers or catty remarks it attracted. She wondered how surprised her roommate would be to learn the number of time Chizuru wished to be more "average" looking.

"How is Bryce-san doing?" she asked.

"Fine," the other girl answered. "Kenny-san said they had finished re-shooting the last scenes and were gearing up for a media blitz before the release."

'Oh ho, so its Kenny-san is it,' Chizuru thought to herself. Aloud she commented, "I've noticed you've been messaging each other a lot."

"It isn't all that often," Natsumi replied as a flush crept into the girl's cheeks.

"You two are on Youhoo every morning," she countered. "And then you check for emails in the evening."

"Being an actor, he's got a lot of useful information," the other girl said in her defense. "I mean how many people do we know who are starring in a movie?"

Because of her family's associations, the teen knew several; however, they weren't the type of movies Natsumi would have seen. "You have a point."

"Actually, we talk quite a bit about you," the actress disclosed. "You see …"

Further conversation was interrupted by an explosion outside of the tent they were dressing in. Throwing back the front flap, Ayaka ducked inside, followed by Yuna. The basketball player had both guns drawn and kept up a steady rate of fire at targets outside.

"That's my dress," the class rep shrieked upon seeing Chizuru.

"We couldn't find anything else the screamed 'barbaric priestess' on such short notice," she responded.

--

**Headmaster's Office, Mahora Japan**

Ojou-sama sat up straight in the chair as the girl explained the recent events surrounding Sayo. The headmaster quietly listened to his granddaughter's report as fingers, formed into a steeple, rested against the man's bearded chin. Next to his desk sat the school's Chief of Operations. Kuzunoha-san had asked several questions and recorded the information onto a notepad. Setsuna stood behind her shukun's shoulder, ready to spring to action in the unlikely event Konoka was endangered.

After Konoka had finished, the headmaster turned to the blonde-haired woman. "What do you think Toko-kun?"

"Thanks to Sakurazaki-san, the barghest was dispersed," the woman answered. "I am reluctant to do anything that might cause it to return."

"But the barghest may return at any time," Konoka insisted, "as long as the spirits remain trapped in the garden."

"What do you propose granddaughter?" the elder Konoe asked.

"Our responsibility is to help those spirits move on," her ojou-sama answered.

"Our responsibility is to ensure the students' safety," the operations chief reminded.

"In doing this we also remove a potential threat," Konoka countered.

"I agree with you granddaughter," the headmaster said. "But how do we go about laying the ghosts to rest?"

"We have several, skilled exorcists," Toko mentioned. "Including a couple of your classmates ojou-sama."

When Konoka responded with a "Yes, and I know just how capable they are," Setsuna squared her shoulders a little more as a small bit of pride wormed its way in. "However, weren't exorcists available when Aisaka-san was at Mahora?"

"Yes," the old mage answered. "Why do you ask?"

"I'm curious as to why Aisaka-san didn't use them," the girl answered. "Despite how powerful Sayo-san might be, why would he want to risk his daughter?"

'Why indeed?' Setsuna wondered. Sayo's memories of her father revealed a man who cared deeply for his family. It didn't make sense that he would jeopardize his little girl, but then bringing the onryo back to Japan didn't make sense either. Unless there was something only his daughter could do.

"What was that Se-chan?"

Setsuna glanced up to see the others looking at her. "Sorry," she hastily apologized. "I was just thinking out loud."

"What was it you said?" Konoka asked

"I was wondering if there was something only Sayo-san could do," she answered, "for the ghosts that is."

"That is entirely possible Setsuna-kun," the headmaster replied. "Unfortunately, we will never know since your classmate is a ghost as well."

Sadness clouded the man's aged face, making it appear more haggard than normal. A secret sorrow, keener than Yunagi's edge, seemed to cut through Konoemon as he said, "Perhaps if she had a body …"

"If she had a body," Konoka repeated. A tiny light bulb switched on above her ojou-sama's head as the girl jumped to her feet shouting "That' it!"

"Grandfather!" the girl excitedly cried. "Can you teach me the spell you used to switch places with Eva-chan?"

"Surely you're not planning on to use it on yourself?" Toko asked.

"No," Konoka quickly responded. "But I do have an idea."

--

**Teacher's Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

A film of dust lay upon a jade green vase. Feathers brushed against it, slightly stirring the thin layer. The duster clattered to the table top as Lili grabbed an edge to steady herself while the room lurched beneath the maid's high-heeled pumps. Weakness gripped the lilim, making an odd counterpoint to the hunger that raged within her. Since that idiot cheerleader blabbed, master had kept her confined to the room, except for the one evening at the dodgeball game.

'It's so unfair,' the demon thought, knowing that wonder boy was only one floor below. 'So much energy in such a cute, little package.'

'And he's just the right age too,' she lamented. 'Oh the things I could teach a young and pliant mage.'

One hand cupped a breast while the other slid down the uniform's front as Lili began to fantasize about their "first" lesson only to be interrupted by a knock. Opening the door, the demon was nearly bowled over by the sudden onslaught of power emanating from the girl standing in the hallway. Barely did the lilim restrain herself from lunging for the tasty morsel presenting itself; a task made easier when she spotted the glaring, shinmei-ryu hovering protectively by the girl's side. Instantly she recognized the two teens responsible for her capture.

Hunger was forgotten as fear replaced it. "Ishikawa-sensei isn't here," Lili told them.

"That's alright," the smiling girl replied. "I need to speak with you too. May we come in?"

At that moment, the last thing Lili wanted was to be in the same room with those two, but the swordswoman pushed the door open and the demon had to step back or be knocked to the floor. Darkness hovered around the edges of her vision, ready to surge wave-like and drown the succubus. Sheer willpower prevented her from wobbling as she edged away from the pair. "What do you want?"

The girl's smile grew broader as a black curtain fell across Lili. The last thing she heard before crashing to the tatami mats was "I want your body."

--

Konoka lifted her head from the demon's chest. "She's still breathing," she announced to Setsuna's obvious relief. "I wonder what happened. I don't see any injuries … do demon's get sick?"

"Lilim generally travel as spirits," Setsuna told her. "It takes energy for them to remain in a body, particularly one different from their natural form."

"What happens if her energy level drops too low Se-chan?"

Eyes narrowed as the swordswoman considered her question. "If it drops low enough, the lilim's material form will dissipate and her spirit will return to its home world."

"We can't let that happen," she said, recalling that was precisely what trapping the demon here was preventing. Knowledge of the impending demon attack was one of the few advantages their side had. To lose that would imperil thousands of people living in Mahora. "How do we infuse her with more energy?"

"Uh, well … I think … that is to say …"

Konoka looked up at her stammering friend and noted a pair of brightly flushed cheeks. She giggled "Oh, you mean sex," causing Setsuna's blush to turn from pink to red.

"I guess there's no choice then," she remarked while moving to grab hold of the unconscious figure's legs. "Help me move her to the bedroom Se-chan."

"What are do you mean there's no choice?" Setsuna asked as the shinmei-ryu started to raise the demon's shoulders.

"I mean that it appears I'll have to revive her," Konoka replied.

THUMP!

A look of horror was plastered across the swordswoman's face as Setsuna stared at her. "Ojou-sama no!" her friend cried out. "I cannot allow you to sully yourself in such a manner!"

"What other options do we have?" she calmly responded.

"Let's see," Konoka said while drumming as an index finger against her chin. "Negi-kun is too young and innocent a boy for something like this. Markham-sensei was married once; he ought to know what to do."

"That's not …"

"We could call maintenance," she continued, ignoring the other girl's comment. "Maybe they could send that cute boy who fixed the class rep's refrigerator over."

"Ojou-sama …"

"Or I could stick my head out the window and ask a passerby for assistance. I'm sure there's a Good Samaritan out there somewhere."

"This isn't a laughing matter!" a scarlet-faced Setsuna shouted.

"I'm not laughing Se-chan," Konoka said with as serious an expression as she could muster. "This needs to be done and we risk too much by delaying."

"Then let me … let me be the one to do it instead," her friend offered.

"No Se-chan," she refused. Fingers traced the other girl's cheek and Konoka could feel her friend tremble under their touch. A memory of walking in on Se-chan and Markham-sensei in what appeared to be a compromising position sprang to mind. The pain she felt then was nothing compared to the hurt she caused Setsuna by running away; a hurt she hoped never to repeat. "I'd never be able to face myself or anyone else again if I did that to you."

Once more the teens heaved the demon up and began to carry the body across the room. "You could wait outside," Konoka suggested.

"My place is by your side," Setsuna steadfastly maintained. "Always."

"If I do marry, that's going to be difficult to explain on my honeymoon," she remarked with her lips curled into a teasing grin, "unless you intend to join in on the fun."

"Please don't joke like that."

"Who's joking?"

THUMP!

--

**Hollywood, California**

Tiny droplets of sweat beaded on the man's brow as he walked across the cement lot to where a row of trailers sat. Taking a moment to mop the dampness from forehead and neck, Nathan Chandler stared at the smoggy skies of Los Angeles. A moment later and he was briskly knocking on a trailer door.

"Yo, Kenny," he called. "It's Nathan. Are you in there?"

"C'mon in," he heard the teen shout.

Cool air rushed out of the open door, bringing a grateful sigh in response. Quickly, he stepped inside and looked about for his young charge. Having worked in Hollywood for half of his fifty years, Nathan had been an agent for dozens of actors. His latest client had proved a challenge. Too young to drink and too smart to indulge in the local party scene, Kenny Bryce had avoided the pitfalls that tripped up many of the boy's peers; however, publicity, even bad publicity, was the life blood of the industry. 'Maybe we could check him into a rehab center,' the man quietly considered.

His client was hunched over a computer, intently watching as video streamed across the monitor. "What'cha looking at kid?" he asked.

"I was looking up Mahora Japan on the internet and found these videos of a martial arts tournament on Your Tube," Kenny answered. "Some of the clips make our special effects look lame in comparison."

A man about thirty years of age, Nathan guessed, was pummeled by what looked like a ten-year-old boy. "Ouch," the agent cried as debris flew everywhere. "That's gotta hurt."

"Yeah, if it was real," the teen remarked. "Oh, here's another one."

Two, armed girls, a few years older than the boy in the previous clip, faced each other. One carried a deck brush while the other held what appeared to be a large fan. "Why are they wearing maid costumes?" Nathan asked.

"I think it's some kind of cultural thing," Kenny answered. "Now watch this."

Both maids vanished as shadowy blotches marred the picture. "What is this?" he asked.

"Just a moment," the young star replied as the video started showing still shots of the battling maids. "Those two were moving so fast that the camera couldn't keep up with them."

The series of stills ended with the dark-haired girl being flipped upon her back and her opponent leveling the fan at her. For all of the obvious editing, Nathan could tell that real martial arts training was needed to pull that scene off. "Where were those two when the studio was casting?"

"I'm lucky they weren't discovered," the boy chuckled. "Drew and Laura were bad enough during fight scenes. Those two would have done some damage."

"Why the interest in this Mahora place?"

"I met this really cute girl from there a few weeks back," Kenny answered. "Her class was doing the tour."

"Wait a minute," Nathan said. "Wasn't that the group involved in the airport shooting up in San Francisco?"

"That's them," the teen confirmed. "Anyway, I've been IM'ing her and her roommate since they left the US."

Wheels turned as a new publicity strategy took shape in the agent's mind. "You've never been to Japan have you?"

"I've never been out of the country," his client replied, "except for a couple trips to Tijuana."

"Did I ever tell you that I can see into the future?" Nathan asked.

"No."

"Well my boy," the man said, "I can see you're about to embark on a long trip."

--

**A/N: Chapter heading and title are from the first canto of Dante's "Inferno."**

**Jan-ken-pon is of course rock-paper-scissors. I found the variation used while surfing Wikipedia (another of my guilty pleasures).**

**Saisho wa gu – Starting with stone**

**Aiko desho - Looks like a tie**

**Sho – a shortening of Aiko desho**

**Acchi muite hoi – Hey look over there**

**Many thanks Hydriatus for recommending Metal Gear to me.**


	35. Chapter 35

**A/N: Here we are again.**

**Negima and its characters are owned by Ken Akamatsu as was Shirai from "Love Hina." Cycilia Sevensheep, Professor Bagera, Hi'Ki Zosho and Momo Zosho were created by NakuhariFan-01 for his "Ala Alba" story, as were his mythical heroes of the Magic World, Kush'Na Norista Teotanasia and Kurt'Wa Cae Ffynnon. Other characters are my creation.**

**The following conventions are use: **"words"**, **'thoughts'**, "spells", **_'reading'_, _memories_

**World of Stone**

**Bring to me all of my arrows, bring to me my crossbow too; I fear we might need them both before the night is through – **Ritchie Blackmore, Candice Night

--

**Granicus, Mundus Magicus**

Even in broad daylight, one could always find shadows. A dark alley or doorway was rarely more than a few steps distant. Tosaka, through no fault of his own, had spent his entire life in the shadows, watching enviously those favored few who crossed the heavens like a streaking comet that demanded attention. Even as he saw them flare and fade after a season or two, the young gladiator burned with a desire to emulate their exploits and stand in the spotlight's harsh glare. Yet fame and glory weren't in the cards life had dealt him.

When it came down to it, he was fated to be nothing more than one of those characters confined to the sidelines. Prompted by his melancholy mood, memories of that pale-haired girl came to him, bringing a momentary smile. The final time he spoke with her, she had been wearing a short, denim skirt and a skimpy top with the words 'Dream Girl' stenciled across her chest.

"_Mama-san told me about how rough you had it after your home was destroyed," Ako told him._

_Tosaka had sneered in response. "What of it? Lots of people had it hard after the war."_

"_I don't think you're a bad person," she replied. "So why do you seem to hate my friends and I so much?"_

"_Not a bad person?" he sarcastically taunted. "That shows how much a brainless idiot like you knows. I'm just a piece of trash that could only do one thing right and that's fight."_

"_I spent years in the arena and what did it earn me?" he had nearly shouted. "I busted so many bones I had to retire and become a manager. Your friends come waltzing in and achieve in a month and a half what I couldn't in ten years. Is it any wonder I hate their guts?"_

"_A here you are, a delicate little flower who gets in trouble and your buddies fall all over themselves to bail you out." Tosaka didn't even bother to hide his contempt. "It must be nice being lucky enough to go through life without any scars."_

_The look of her face told him that last remark had hurt. He should have let it go at that, but instead he bore down on the girl until she ran from him in tears. _

"_Ako was trying to be nice to you," Mama said as the huge cat-woman stepped from a side passage._

"_I don't need dummies like her being nice to me."_

"_You're the dummy!" his former guardian yelled as a furred hand swung backwards. Well acquainted with the force of the woman's fists, Tosaka cringed in anticipation of a blow that never came._

_He gazed at her like a man about to be trampled by a herd of tokage, only to find himself miraculously untouched. "I tried to tell Vargas we had no business raising a child," Mana said while sadly shaking her head. "Get out of here. Nothing I can do is going to hurt as much or as long as what you just did to yourself."_

Understanding what Mama meant came a month later as Tosaka felt the emptiness. It had been a constant companion since the day Ostia fell from the sky, but a tough guy like him shrugged and went on. Only now it wouldn't be ignored. Ako's presence seemed everywhere as the young man went about his day and her face haunted his nightly dreams.

"It wouldn't have hurt to have been nice once," Tosaka mumbled before a tall man swathed in the white robes of a desert dweller joined him in the alley.

"You're late," he complained.

"An unavoidable delay," a muffled voice explained. "Two men from the Mundus Vetus will be arriving here soon. If they seek to contact your master, find out what they want and report back."

How he wanted to tell the man where to shove those orders, but Tosaka didn't have the luxury. "How is Dolnegus?"

"Your master is still alive," the other informed him. "And as long as you cooperate, he will remain so."

After being dismissed, Tosaka walked down the bustling streets leading to the arena, convinced of being an utter failure. Fighting was all he knew, but it wouldn't do him a bit of good this time. When all was said and done, the young man was nothing more than trash, unable to rise to the level of a main character. If only there was someone who understood how that felt.

--

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

As the two mages glared at one another, Hiro felt the tension grow thick enough to cut. The last place he needed to be was in a small room with two wizards angry enough to start pitching fireballs and lightning bolts around. "So what happened to Magnusson?"

Both faces turned in shock as if suddenly reminded that the assassin was there. "Magnusson?" Grandmistress Seras asked.

"Yeah, the guy with the sword who was ready to skewer both Miss Monroe and I," he replied. "Did you find out if he was working for somebody or if he just whacked out on his own?"

An expression both shocked and grief stricken settled across the woman's face. "No we didn't," Seras answered as she glanced away. "He died before we could question him."

"Died?" Akashi's surprised voice asked. "How?"

"A truth potion was being administered when Magnusson started laughing like one struck mad," the woman answered and then shuddered at the memory. "His hair began to smolder and then caught fire. In seconds the flames had engulfed his body … he kept laughing while burning to ashes."

"Magic Professor?"

"Undoubtedly," the middle-aged man answered. "Are there any remains?"

"Not enough for even a necromancer to work with," the grandmistress admitted.

"So he was working with or for somebody," Hiro said. "Can many mages kill someone like that at a distance?"

"No," Seras swiftly responded. "A mage must have established a connection beforehand with the victim."

"A blood pact," the professor stated.

"What's a blood pact sensei?"

"While the pactio is the most common, there are several types of magical pacts," the man explained. "The blood pact is considered black magic since it involves a shared taking of life by the parties involved as well as the mingling of their blood."

"Some descriptions of past rituals may have served as the basis for supposed Black Masses," Akashi finished.

"I wouldn't have thought Arn capable of that," Seras remarked. "But nobody sane could laugh that way as they died."

"Sounds like a pretty fanatical group," the assassin observed. "Is there anyone we know who fits that bill?"

"Some of the Kosmo Entelecheia members were said to perform suicidal acts to further their group's aims," Akashi answered.

"And then there was," Seras started to say and the shook her head. "No never mind."

"What?" both men asked.

"You recall the famous statues of the Sorceress and Swordsman don't you?" she asked and Hiro's blank stare answered.

"The sorceress was Kush'Na Norista Teotanasia and the swordsman was her Minister, Kurt'Wa Cae Ffynnon," the woman explained. "Ages ago they sealed away the Life Giver, a powerful being who is believed to have created this world. Assisting those two was a band of followers called the Fidelis Fraternus or Brotherhood of the Faithful. It is said each member swore the strongest of oaths, vowing to lay down life, honor and soul to defeat the Life Giver."

"Are they still around?" the young mundane asked.

"I don't know," the grandmistress answered. "But Kosmo Entelecheia, who served the Life Giver, managed to survive."

"Well gentlemen," the woman announced, "it's time I get back to the school."

"Grandmistress …" Hiro started and then paused as she glanced back. "I have a favor to ask."

--

"Grandmistress Seras! Grandmistress Seras!" Reporters descended upon her like a pack of rabid animals the moment she stepped outside of the hospital. "Can you comment on … Is there any truth to … What are you doing about …" all blended together in a whirlwind of sound. Held back by a circle of knights was a churning sea of faces, all clamoring for her attention. A few more steps and the mage reached the safety of her vehicle. As doors closed out the questioning mob, Victoria Seras leaned against the padded seat. The transport rose into the air and sped her back to the school's administration building.

An official statement on recent events would have to be drafted and released, but it could wait until her anger cooled. Barely had the woman restrained herself over Professor Akashi's outrageous assertion. Putting a bug on the assassin from the Old World had been a precaution as was keeping him under observation. Granted, some information found its way outside of her office, but that was an attempt to plug leaks. Forcing their spy into the open had been more a stroke of luck rather than sinister plot.

"You have a visitor," the receptionist warned as Seras entered the outer office. "She's inside."

Her guest stood with back turned, staring out one of the windows behind the grand mistress' desk. Blonde hair fell to the other woman's waist and Seras recognized her visitor. "Hello Cycilia," she greeted the reporter. "Have you come for a story too?"

"Hello Vicky." The sheep-eared woman was smiling as she turned about. "And no, unless you want to speak on the record."

"Not today," she gratefully replied. With a friendship spanning more than twenty years, Cycilia Sevensheep was the one news reporter Seras trusted to keep that promise. "How can I help you?"

"I'm not use to being shot at," Cycilia answered as her friend's expression turned serious. "What's going on?"

"Your two friends managed to uncover a spy in the school," she explained to the reporter. "My guess is that the spy tried to eliminate them before he was revealed."

"A spy? Who?"

"Arn Magnusson."

"Oh my God," Cycilia exclaimed. "What happened to …"

"He's dead." Blood drained from the reporter's face as Seras continued. "We'll need to make an official statement. I'd like your help in breaking this story."

"I can't help you hide the truth."

"I'm not asking you to," she responded. "But I want to avoid additional embarrassment to his family."

Cycilia flopped down on a couch and smiled ruefully. "I swear that young man is a magnet for danger."

Not having to guess who was meant, Seras chuckled. "He's not the first such we've known."

"No he's not," Cycilia commented. "At least Emily's managed to steer clear of him."

A stray expression must have betrayed her. "My reporter's sixth sense is tingling Vicky. What aren't you telling me?"

Walking over to the wet bar, the grandmistress asked "You still drink gin and tonic don't you?" Carefully, she measured out the drink and handed her friend the glass.

"I'm not going to like the answer am I?"

"Your daughter, Mister Oishi and another student were attacked by a pair of mated perytons," she answered. "In order to defeat both creatures Emily formed a pactio with him."

Without hesitation, Cycilia gulped the drink down and held out an empty glass. "Make it a double."

--

**Hellas Empire, Mundus Magicus**

A stiff, westerly wind blew, snatching red and gold leaves from tree limbs and sending them spiraling heavenward. Thin, wispy clouds, barely more than smears against a pale, blue sky, drifted aimlessly by. In the east, a v-shaped wedge rose above the horizon. Observers on the ground might have mistaken the formation for a flock seeking to escape the coming chill of winter. However, the mass move too orderly, too purposefully for migrating fowl.

Flight Leader Measura d'Assez tapped the side of her goggles and watched as lenses magnified her view. A pall of smoke from numerous fires hung over a tiny hamlet, obscuring vision and rendering their infrared capabilities useless.

An attack on a farmstead so near to the imperial capitol was unthinkable, yet the scene before her proved it wasn't impossible. Being the closest patrol, her flight was given the task of defending the villagers or giving aid to the survivors. From her vantage it was unclear which option would be needed. Tapping a button on the side of her helmet opened a communications link to the others. "Flight Leader to Gryphon Flight," she spoke into the helmet's microphone. "Prepare for battle."

Twenty energy lances, replacements for the spears her folk carried proudly in ages past, were held ready. "Set to stun," the warrior ordered per standard procedures. "If deadly force is used, you are authorized to return in kind."

"Alpha Squad break left in 200 meters and approach target at 9 o'clock," Measura continued with her commands. "Omega Squad, go right and approach at 3 o'clock."

"Delta Squad, you follow my lead." Three squad leaders acknowledged their orders and outer two-thirds of the wedge glided away from the formation. Measura spared a quick glance to the right where the flight's youngest member labored to keep up. Banded wings, with more fledgling brown showing than mature black and white feathers, slowed in response to the leader's hand signal, keeping pace with the rest of Delta Squad. Only 13 years old, just out of the nest as it were, Ceasura had yet to taste the sweet joy of battle, to feel the heart's pounding and to laugh at fear's touch. Perhaps today would be the day the youngster could blood her wings.

Lower the squad dropped and the smell of charred flesh assailed keen noses. Bile rose up Measura's throat, causing the back of her mouth to burn. Battle or aid? "Lances forward."

A flurry of jet black darts shot out from the smoke. Lances fired in response, shattering the deadly barrage. As Measura's group pierced the grey cloud, sensors in their battle armor detected the hostile conditions and adjusted the suits' environment to compensate. The once picturesque village had been transformed into a hellish inferno. Cottages with white washed walls and carved window sills blazed in the stifling air. Bodies, mostly of animals, were strewn upon the unpaved lanes as ominous shapes strutted about with peacock-like pride.

"Demons!" The cry rang in Measura's ears as her fingers moved the lance's setting to kill. Light gathered about the tip and burst forth to strike a one of the invaders with a dazzling flash. A sound like a hunting horn filled the air and dog-like creatures, the size of a pack beast, bounded into view. One of the hell hounds leapt towards the warrior on her left; her energy bolt incinerated the demon's body, sending the monstrous creature's spirit back to its home plane.

From her right, Measura heard an enraged scream. Whipping her head about, the warrior watched as one of the devil dogs attacked the youngster. Too close bring the energy beam into play, the girl held her lance out straight letting the demon impaled itself on the point. Still alive, the dog fell back to the ground, dragging Ceasura, who refused to release her weapon, along.

"Man down!" the squad leader shouted over the link.

"I'm on it," Measura said as wing spread out to let her wheel back to the fallen fighter.

"Gryphon Flight!" she called into the helm's microphone. "All squads pull back! I repeat all squads pull back!"

Twisting in mid-air, the dog landed atop its young opponent. Though the lance had passed completely through it, the beast's mouth opened wide to rip the girl's throat out. Light glinted off of naked steel as Ceasura thrust a dagger upwards, into the monster's lower jaw. Blood, black as tar spouted from the wound as the girl continued to push until the blade lodged into roof of the creature's mouth. The hound convulsed and then collapsed upon its slayer.

Landing next to the pair, the Flight Leader moved to push the corpse off her fellow warrior when the hunting horn blew again. Out from one of the burning buildings stepped a tall, man-like figure with antlers growing out of either side of his head. From the opposite end stepped a demon larger than any of the houses. The giant was vaguely reptilian in form with half of its body covered in pale white skin while the other as black as ebony. 'This is no simple raid,' Measura belatedly realized.

Brandishing a blood-stained spear, the horned demon pointed at her in challenge. Knowing her armor contained only a few minutes more of air, she raised her own lance. Embers floated by as burning wood crackled and popped. Wings folded flat against her back, the veteran smiled and then charged. Time distorted turning a rush of mere seconds into what felt like hours. They passed one another and a panting Measura halted a few strides later. Warm breath filled the inside of her helmet and started to fog lenses. Glancing down, the warrior noted the gashed armor and a brilliant scarlet that welled out of her side.

The next thing the Flight Leader was aware of, she was flat on her back and a hazy sky appeared overhead. While unconscious, the battle suit had done its job and kept her alive though she was too weak yet to move. "How many did we get?" a guttural voice asked.

"Seven I think," another answered. Unlike the strident sounding first speaker, this one's tone seemed mildly bored. "Any of them alive?"

A heavy foot crunched into her injured side and muscles clenched involuntarily. "This one," the harsh voiced one replied. She heard the tramp of feet walking through the debris of the village. "The little, winged brat too."

'Ceasura,' she thought.

"They fought bravely," the bored fellow said. "Let one of them live."

"Which one?"

"Kill me and spare the young one," Measura tried to shout, but muscles lacked the will to move.

"You choose."

Again the veteran attempted to speak but could do no more than gasp. In the desolated clearing that a few hundred inhabitants once called home, a loud crack like the snapping of dry and brittle sticks echoed. A dagger sharp pain stabbed the wounded warrior through her heart as the first speaker announced "Done."

"Come then," his companion said. "We've more to do ere we depart."

Blood continued to pour out through a hole in Measura's chest. Eyes gazed up to behold a final image of open skies.

--

**Dracogenia, Mundus Magicus**

Being the only city of any size along the broad stretch of the Northern Elysian coast, one would be surprised that Dracogenia was so small. Originally built as a trading post with the neighboring Dragon Clans, the port seemed more a sleepy, seaside resort rather than a bustling hub of commerce.

As he stepped out of the library founded by his father, Hi'Ki was struck by the salty smell that pervaded the city. Carefully, the boy activated a security spell purchased after vandals had broken in during the previous summer. No serious damage had been done, but it had taken days to clean up the mess of all those overturned shelves. If it hadn't been for …

A heavy sigh escaped from the rabbit-eared boy as Hi'Ki thought about that girl from the Old World. Cute girls don't suddenly appear on the doorstep, but this one had. When he first saw her, the librarian had blithely assumed she was the assistant he had asked Professor Bagera to help find. Instead, Nodoka had been caught up in the destruction of the gateports and was teleported to Dracogenia by a wizard's spell that scattered her companions across the face of the Magic World. Luckily for her, the dark-haired girl hadn't materialized over a volcano or under the ocean. If only his luck had been so good.

Though he tried not to show it, the young librarian had been knocked head over heels by the shy teen from Mahora. Alas, she was already in love and with the son of the Thousand Master no less. 'How can I compete with someone like that?' he mentally groaned. Eventually, Nodoka had returned home and drab, dreary Dracogenia grew more drab and dreary after her departure.

Turning towards home, the teen started home. In the distance, he noted an unscheduled airship was maneuvering to land at the city's aeroport. Being on the lookout for opportunities to add new books to the library's collection, Hi'Ki kept abreast of scheduled landings. He hoped that the koi-class ship was an independent freighter in distress instead of dragon horn hunters out to make some quick drachmas. Even though dragons performed their courting rituals this time of year, losing not a few horns in the process, they took such behavior for theft. And angry dragons were not conducive to long, happy lives.

Forgetting about the airship, the librarian reached his house and walked into its cozy, front parlor. "Hello mom."

"Hello Hi'Ki," the middle-aged, rabbit-woman replied as she walked in from the kitchen. Like her son, Momo Zosho looked mostly human with the addition of long ears and a small tail positioned at her waist. "Did you have a good day?"

"Fairly," he answered non-committaly. "Is dinner ready?"

"Not yet," the woman replied. A calloused hand, accustomed to holding blades, wiped a carving knife against an orange-stained apron. "It will take thirty more minutes for the carrots to finish roasting."

"I'll be in my room then," Hi'Ki said.

"Writing a letter to that Miyazaki girl?" his mother innocently asked.

"Um, yeah," he hurriedly answered and then rushed into the safety of his bedroom. A wooden desk and chair sat against the curtained window. After lighting an oil lamp, Hi'Ki sat down and set out a spotless sheet of white paper. With deliberate slowness, he sharpened his quill and then dipped its tip into the ink.

'_Dear,_' he wrote and then paused in thought.

'_Dearest Nodoka,_' he continued. '_The summer here in Dracogenia has been hotter than any time in recent memory. There are days when it seems difficult to get up the energy to move about due to the heat and humidity. I'm fortunate that the library has been ensorcelled to stay at a constant temperature. I hope that you are having a much better time of it where you are. _

_I find it impossible to go a day without thinking of you at least a hundred times. And that's before breakfast. I miss you so much that I think I shall go crazy. I'll catch myself staring into space, thinking of how your bangs fall across your eyes, or how beautiful you looked disguised as a rabbit-girl. I can hardly …_'

Hi'ki stopped and gazed at what he wrote with a mounting sense of despair. Sadly the teen shook his head and set the paper atop a stack of dozens of other abandoned letters. It was then the boy heard a knock on the front door and his mother's voice as she answered.

"Is the librarian Zosho-san in?" a feminine voice asked.

Hi'Ki quickly got up from his chair and walked back into the parlor. Two strangers stood in the open doorway. One was a curvaceous blonde woman and the other was a slender elf woman with dark hair. "I'm the librarian," he announced as three heads turned his direction.

The blonde smiled and nervously chuckled, "No, I mean Zosho Hiji, the founder of the library here."

"My husband Hiji died over two years ago," Momo explained. "Hi'Ki inherited his father's responsibilities and is the librarian."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," the blonde woman responded while her companion nodded in agreement. "Zosho-san was well respected among the hunter's guild."

From her mention of the guild, Hi'Ki realized both women were professional treasure hunters. "What is it you wished from my father Miss?"

"My name is Aisha Coryel," the spokeswoman introduced herself. "And this is Lynn Garland. My friends and I have recently explored the ruins of the Noctis Labyrinthus. We found some items that may be magical and I remembered your father's reputation for research. I was hoping to convince him to help us discover what these items are."

Boy and mother glanced at one another, needing no words to converse. Finally, both turned towards the two treasure hunters. "The Library of Dracogenia is open to all who wish to use it," Hi'Ki said. "And while I don't claim to be the researcher my father was, there is no one alive who knows its contents better than I."

--

**Teacher's Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

'I'm not a bloody social worker,' Evangeline mentally complained as the tiny vampire's feet dragged down the hallway. Training those empty-headed idiots was justifiable as protecting her investment in Negi. However, that didn't mean she wanted to play wet nurse when they had problems. 'At this rate, I'll lose my edge.'

A shudder ran through the illusion-masked mage at the thought of turning into another happy, smiling, lobotomized student. A hellish vision of a sailor-suited Evangeline sitting in a room dominated by posters of boya's grinning face flashed through her mind, prompting an anguished, 'Nooooo!'

Nearly panting, she hurried into the safety of her room only to freeze at the sight of two former classmates seated in the living room. Konoka wore that insufferable every-thing-is-right-with-the-world grin while Setsuna looked ready to chew nails in half.

"More tea?" the uniformed demon was asking her uninvited guests. Konoka held out her cup with a "Yes please." Meanwhile, Setsuna glared daggers at the lilim.

"What an unexpected pleasure," the vampire's droll voice said, emphasizing the word "unexpected."

Both guests rose to their feet and bowed in greeting. "Welcome home mistress," the maid said while rushing to her side. "Shall I take your coat?" Lili asked and then proceeded to cling to her as closely as a skin graft.

"What's going on here?"

"I have a request Ishikawa-sensei," Konoka said with an exaggerated formality. "Sayo-san needs a physical body to perform an exorcism. Would you consent to having a transference spell cast on her and Himeiko-san?"

"Sayo? Exorcism?" she replied. Evangeline had been about to ask what kind of drugs the girl was on, but the storm clouds hovering over the glowering shinmei-ryu made her think better of it. "Perhaps you could explain why Sayo-san needs my maid's body."

As she took a seat at the low table, Konoka started. "It all began when I went to visit Kimiaki-san's grandparents …"

"… and when grandfather suggested that Sayo-san might need a body, I thought of the transference spell," the young healer concluded.

"But you have no idea what it is she can do that's so important?" Evangeline asked.

"No."

Another harebrained scheme she wanted to scoff but Evangeline controlled that impulsive response. If the headmaster was willing to allow his granddaughter to take the risk, she reasoned, why interfere? Turning to the demon, she asked "And is this acceptable to you?"

Expecting a prompt refusal, Lili surprised her with a swift "Yes mistress."

Struck momentarily speechless, Evangeline gawked in amazement at the succubus. The demure appearing maid squirmed under her intense scrutiny. Seconds slipped by in silence as the undead mage carefully considered her next few words. Something was going on that the vampire couldn't put a finger on, but she had her own issues to worry about. "Go ahead then," she capitulated. "When do you intend to perform the spell?"

"It will take a few days to get everything ready," Konoka answered. "I don't expect we'll be ready before this Tuesday."

--

They walked down the street no more than an arm's length distant, but to Setsuna, it seemed kilometers separated her from Konoka. A part of the swordswoman realized that what had occurred between her friend and the demon was necessary to prevent the potential loss of lives. In that light, the healer acted according to principles the shinmei-ryu held dear. But another part was consumed by the fires of jealous rage. Like a spoiled child denied her way, she wanted to strike out in anger. The discipline instilled by years of training was strained by her emotions, yet she managed to hang on to her control.

Walking back into their dormitory room, Konoka asked, "Do you hate me Se-chan?"

"I don't hate you ojou-sama," Setsuna stiffly answered.

A heavy sigh escaped Konoka's mouth at her formal reply. "Se-chan."

Quickly the swordswoman rounded on her partner. "Ojou-sama," she said. "It isn't my place to question your actions but to support you at all times."

"But you're angry," the other girl countered. "And it's my fault."

Setsuna was tempted to deny it, however both would know it would be a lie. "Yes, I am angry," she admitted. "It is a defect I will strive to correct."

"Feeling anger isn't a defect," Konoka sharply rebuked.

"It is if my emotions prevent me from protecting you ojou-sama."

"Stop calling me ojou-sama," her partner nearly screeched.

Hurt sounded in that voice, but Setsuna could barely manage her own pain. "As you command Kono-chan."

Before the other girl could respond, the door opened and Asuna stepped inside. Glancing at her two roommates, the bell-wearing teen's smile faded. "Uh, should I come back later?"

"Not at all," Setsuna quickly answered. "Please watch over Kono-chan while I'm out."

Puzzled, Asuna scratched her head and then asked, "Where are you going?"

"To get a futon," the swordswoman announced. Both girls watched as the door slammed shut behind her.

--

**Tokyo, Japan**

Violin music floated on the air as Shirai exited the stairway leading up from the subway. A short distance away stood the same brown-haired girl he had heard after seeing Konoka off at the train station. Instead of the mournful song she had played then, a spritely melody flowed from her instrument. A battered hat rested on the ground at the musician's feet.

Shirai reached into his pocket for spare change when a youngster wearing baggy pants and coat darted in and grabbed the hat. As the thief ran off, he gave chase. Running through the crowds, the man discovered that his lithe quarry was able to easily dodge between people whereas he was slowed by jostling legs and elbows. It took only a few blocks for him to completely lose sight of the felon.

Retracing his steps, he found the violinist. "I'm sorry but he got away with your hat Miss," he apologized. Grasping the girl's hand, he pressed a couple of 500 Yen coins against her palm. "I only wish I had more."

Fingers closed around the money as she smiled. "Thank you," a voice as sweet as the music said. "I'll need a new hat it seems."

Before he could ask why her eyes were closed, Shirai noticed a white cane leaning against the wall. "Do you live nearby?"

"I'm not too far away," the blind girl answered.

"Would you like me to walk you back?" he offered while glancing around the busy sidewalks.

"That won't be necessary Mister, ah …"

"Kimiaki," he replied.

"Thank you Kimiaki-san, but I couldn't impose on you," the girl told him. "You've already done so much for me."

"It's not an imposition," Shirai told her. "I'd be concerned that kid might bother you again."

--

A short train ride later, and the two were walking down a narrow street filled with questionable businesses that advertised their services with garish neon signs. "Are you sure this is the right place?" Shirai skeptically asked. His blind guide answered in the affirmative and explained that a cheap room was preferable to a park bench.

Stepping out of the elevator, he winced at the wallpaper with its alternating stripes of scarlet and pale pink. Below their feet was a well worn carpet decorated with assorted heart shapes. As the musician paused to fish out a ring of keys, the young man tried to ignore the sounds of a couple's lovemaking in a nearby room. "Well you seem to have safely arrived," Shirai remarked as sweat dampened the back of his collar. "I guess I should leave now."

"Oh don't go now," the girl responded as she fit the key in and turned it. "I haven't properly thanked you."

"No thanks is, cough, necessary Miss," Shirai responded as images from manga read during high school years paraded before the young man's eyes.

"At least come in say hello to my roommate," the girl pleaded. "I'm sure you'll want to meet her."

Inside the dimly lit room, a familiar figure dressed in baggy clothes smiled up at him from the couch. "About time you got here," the scowling girl said. The last thing Shirai remembered was staring in astonishment at a pair of tiny horns poking out from thief's forehead.

--

**A/N: Maybe I should provide a scorecard?**

**Chapter heading and title are from the song "World of Stone" by Blackmore's Night.**


	36. Chapter 36

**A/N: Another holiday season, another blizzard. Let it not be said that my cabin fever was unproductive. In my haste, I inadvertently forgot to thank Fionn the Otaku for his suggestion on Shirai. I hope this meets with your approval. **

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters as well as Shirai from "Love Hina". Other characters mentioned are OC.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words"**, **'thoughts'** and "spells"**

**Under the Cherry Trees**

**Dead bodies are buried under the cherry trees – **Kaji'i Motojiro

--

**Tatsumiya Shrine, Mahora Japan**

Asuna hurried through carved posts decorating the shrine's entry gate and stopped to glance about the carefully manicured grounds. Despite having lived in Mahora for eleven years, the girl had never stepped foot inside until last years' martial arts tournament. Entering that event had changed her life in so many unexpected ways.

Up until that tournament, Asuna had thought herself a normal, if not particularly bright, student. But Imma-san's touch had awoken memories of another Asuna, one who lived before coming to Mahora, who had travelled with the famed Ala Rubra, who had been the princess of fairy-tale kingdom in a world far from this one.

Ahead, Negi and Asakura-san stood outside a small building. The perverted ermine, Chamo-kun, was perched in his accustomed place on the boy's shoulder. "Asuna," her partner called out as she approached the group. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"Didn't you have afternoon study today?" the grinning reporter asked.

"I did," she answered as a frown of distaste tugged her mouth down. "But when I explained to Markham-sensei where I was going, he said I'd make it up tomorrow."

"No rest for the wicked," Kazumi remarked. "Still, another supporter will make it easier for Sayo-san."

"I really don't understand what's going on," Asuna said.

"Let's step inside," Negi said. As the group walked into the building, he tried to explain. "Sayo-san is going to transfer into another's body. This will allow Sayo-san to participate in exorcising the ghosts responsible for the barghest."

"I thought Setsuna-san dispelled the barghest."

"She did, however the spirits responsible for it are still trapped in the garden," he responded. "Unless they cross over to the next world, they could summon the barghest again."

"But why does Sayo-san have to face these ghosts?" Asuna asked. "Why doesn't Setsuna-san just get rid of them too?"

"The ghosts claimed to have a part of Sayo-san's father," Chamo interjected. "If she dispels them, his spirit may never find peace."

Doors at the far end slide open as a robed Mana stepped inside. "Please be seated," the tall mercenary announced.

They knelt on floor mats as Konoka entered the room with her bodyguard trailing woodenly behind. Asuna winced at the swordswoman's stiff carriage. The last few days had been extremely tense in their dorm room as Setsuna had acted with an excessively polite formality. Only during their morning training sessions did the other girl seem to relax.

'I'll talk to her about this,' Asuna promised herself. 'All three of us are going to start climbing the walls soon.'

A strange girl with light brown hair followed Setsuna. "Hey Negi, who's that?" she asked.

"That's Himeiko-san," he answered. "She's the new middle school teacher's maid."

'Must be pretty well off to afford a maid,' the teen thought as she recalled the Yukihiro mansion with its small army of servants.

As Sayo floated in last, Konoka instructed the ghost and Himeiko to face one another. The maid's form began to blur before astounded eyes. Features melted and flowed about the young woman's face, until an exact replica of the ghost's rose up in their place. Hair lengthened past shoulders and turned as white as new fallen snow, while eyes took on a fiery red color. Asuna gasped when the transformation completed, swearing that three images of the same girl were standing in front of her.

"Lay down," Konoka commanded with a tone that surprised Asuna. As the first words of the spell fell from the healer's mouth, the air seemed to thicken about Asuna and little pinpricks ran up and down her arms. Breathing became harder as the ritual progressed and she could see Kazumi was feeling it too as the reporter began to pant. Even Negi seemed aware of the growing pressure and started chanting under his breath. A moment later and her discomfort lessened.

"Thanks," she managed to whisper in relief.

Konoka's arms dropped to the girl's side and wind, no stronger than a dust devil, whirled about the room. "Aisaka Sayo," the healer's horse voice called out.

Himeiko groaned "Here," while lifting a hand into the air. Shoulders lifted a meter above the mat but fell heavily back with an "Oof!"

In an instant, they were gathered about the prostrate form. "Sayo," the red-headed paparazzi called out. "Is it you?"

A slight grin appeared across the prone girl's face as she nodded. Quickly they lifted her into a sitting position.

"How do you feel?" Kazumi asked.

Sayo took a deep breath in and held it moment before exhaling. Wearing a smile broader than the valley Mahora sat in, she answered, "I feel … alive."

--

**Tokyo, Japan**

Wood chips and withered cherry blossoms crunched underfoot as the couple walked by closely crowded monuments and headstones. Having to pass the Aoyama Reien twice a day on his commute to work, Shirai recognized the cemetery. A tug on the rope knotted about the computer programmer's neck brought him up short while a quick glance back revealed the deepening scowl on his captor's face.

"This should do," Homura remarked as the mage's hand gripped the other end of the rope tighter.

"Mind if I use that bush?" the young man asked, unwilling to relieve himself over a grave.

"Suit yourself," she answered.

He felt fortunate that the blind girl, Shirabi, appeared to be in charge. Homura didn't seem to give a damn about her captive's discomfort. "Would you give me a hand?"

Tiny veins started to pop out of the teen's forehead and Shirai swore he saw flames flicker about her head. Hastily raising his bound wrists he explained, "I can't do much tied up like this."

A casual motion of her hand and the rope uncoiled snakelike in response. "Thanks," he said and then stood for a moment.

"What now?"

"Are you going to watch me?"

"Do you want to take a leak or not?" the girl snapped back. Shirai turned his back and unzipped.

As the first trickle started, Shirai cautiously removed the cell phone from its belt pouch and flipped the lid open. Hoping there was enough light, he took a picture of a nearby grave and sent it to a preprogrammed number. 'Please understand,' the man silently prayed.

"You done yet?" a voice at his elbow asked. Shirai dropped the phone in a pile of leaves as he shoved back into Homura. The mage's eyes glittered dangerously while her lips pulled back into a snarl.

"Why you," she said as a hand clamped onto his arm. Heat soaked through the thin fabric as Shirai winced in pain and fell to his knees. Homura's foot smashed into the side of his face, knocking the young man to the ground. "Know your place worm!"

Gently probing with his tongue, the kidnapped Samaritan tasted blood. "Get up!" the girl commanded and he shakily rose to his feet. "Now move it!" Slowly they trudged back up the trail.

--

**Tatsumiya Temple, Mahora Japan**

As the robe clad trio started out the door, Konoka said something to the others and then ran back to Asuna.

"Will you please keep this for me," the healer asked while holding out a cell phone. "I left a message for Kimiaki-san that I'd be unavailable for awhile, but he might call anyway."

Quickly agreeing, Asuna watched as the group disappeared into the temple grounds to complete a purification ritual prior to exorcising the garden's ghosts. Noting Setsuna's hasty departure, she set off in pursuit of the swordswoman. "Hey! Wait a minute!"

The swordswoman stopped and stared back at her with a blank expression. "Just what's going on between you and Konoka?" she demanded to know.

"There's nothing …" the girl started to reply.

"Don't hand me a line about nothing being wrong," a scowling Asuna interrupted. "I'd have to be blind, deaf and dumb in order to believe that."

"This doesn't concern you."

"Like hell it doesn't," she angrily responded as hair bells clanged emphatically. "Konoka's my friend."

Nails drove into calloused flesh as the other girl's fists clenched. In a softer voice Asuna added, "And so is Setsuna."

For two years Asuna had observed the shinmei-ryu's detached behavior and never gave it a second thought. Finding out that Setsuna and Konoka had been close growing up had been a shock, but worse was that the swordswoman's misguided belief that serving her "ojou-sama" required forfeiting friendship. She had hoped that was all in the past, but something had occurred to cool the girls' relationship again.

"I can't bear seeing you both acting this way," the bell-wearing teen concluded.

Before Setsuna could reply, a gentle chime sounded from Konoka's phone as an email icon flashed across the display screen. Recognizing Kimiaki-san's number, Asuna opened up the message and was bewildered to see a picture of a stone marker. "Huh?" Anger and concern vanished, replaced by puzzlement. "I don't get it."

"What's the matter?" Setsuna asked as the swordswoman moved to her side.

"Konoka's boyfriend sent her this photo," she replied while holding the phone up for the other to see. "And he didn't leave a word of explanation."

--

Sayo and Konoka filed past Mana; all three clad in temple maiden's robes of red and white. The tall mercenary's face seemed impassive, yet the ghost couldn't help but feel a little bit fearful at the other girl's presence. Ever since the time Mana had drawn a gun on her, intending to send the restless spirit on to the next world, the ghost would shudder whenever the exorcist for hire was nearby.

Wooden gates shut behind them as the trio continued walking down a gravel strewn path, passing the temple's landscaped grounds. Memories, dim and fragmented, tried to push through the haze of over sixty years. The feeling of sunlight on her face, the fragrance of pines that blanketed the mountain slopes and the sweet taste of warabimochi spooned from a cup vied with the scenery for the girl's attention.

Glancing at her two companions, Sayo couldn't help but feel her hopes rise; however, another thought kept nagging at her. Was this the task she needed to fulfill? Could this exorcism of the onryo be the reason why her spirit had remained at Mahora all of these years? And if successful, what would happen to her then? Would her soul be released and be sent on to the next world? Such a thought should have gladdened her; instead it felt as if something irreplaceable would be lost.

Certainly her new friends would be missed: Kazumi, Negi and the others as well as Markham-sensei and his mother Betty-san. An image of a young man with bushy eyebrows suddenly intruded and legs stopped moving as if held in place by an unseen force. That familiar face hovered before her, bringing pain that cut straight through a now rapidly beating heart. Sayo blinked and was surprised to feel a wetness run down both cheeks.

"Are you alright?" Konoka's concerned voice asked. "Do you need to sit down and rest?"

Recalling how disoriented she felt upon being in a body again, the question was understandable. Standing up had been a challenge and learning how to keep balanced while walking provided more than a few comical moments in hindsight. "I'll be okay," Sayo replied. "Do we need to walk much farther?"

"Our destination is just beyond those arched trees," Mana answered.

A few more meters and they entered an outdoor bath. "Why are we here?" Sayo asked.

"The first step in the ritual is to relax," the gunslinger explained.

In a flash, Konoka's robes slid to the paving stones and the chocolate-haired teen jumped into the pool in a less than decorous fashion. A geyser of water shot into the air and fell back to earth, drenching Sayo in the process. "Come on in," Konoka said as her head bobbed above the surface. "The water's fine."

Another splash and soaking interrupted Sayo before she could scold the girl's undignified behavior. Slack-jawed, she watched as Mana effortlessly glided through the water, light glistening on the mercenary's dark skin. "Mana-san," she sputtered. "Isn't this supposed to be a ritual?"

"Hand me one of those towels will you?" the gun totting miko asked while pointing to a nearby stack.

Dutifully, a bewildered Sayo retrieved a towel and handed it to Mana. A moment later, she soared over the pool crying "Whaaaa!" before raising a tremendous splash of her own. Two pairs of hands grabbed her by the arms and lifted.

"What …" she coughed, "what was that for?"

Grinning, Mana replied, "I did say the first step was to relax."

"You didn't say that meant drowning me."

"Sorry Sayo-san," Konoka giggled. "But …"

Without warning, both healer and gunslinger were jerked from their feet and pulled underwater as a victorious "Kiyaaa!" filled the air.

--

"Well if it isn't the boy wonder," a disembodied voice announced. With a spell upon his lips, Negi drew back and watched as a mist-like apparition materialized before his and Chamo's eyes.

"Sayo-san," he said upon recognizing the ghostly form. "No, it's Lili-san isn't it."

His former student's lips grinned in response. "You remembered."

"What do you … I mean what can I do for you?" the young mage asked.

"Oh, nothing much," the spirit replied. "I figured I'd just hang out with you for awhile."

"Don't listen to her big brother," Chamo warned. "She's still after your soul."

"I can hardly do anything with him like this," she laughed. To emphasize her point, Lili reached a transparent hand out to stroke the boy's cheek. Negi felt something like a cold breeze as spectral fingertips gently brushed his skin; heat rose in his face despite the chilling sensation.

"So what do you want?" the ermine asked.

"I want to get out of this place," the demon answered as Sayo's face assumed a pouting expression. "Won't you please take me somewhere, anywhere, far away from Mahora?"

Eyelashes batted several times as the succubus added, "Pretty pleeease?"

"Aren't you under the Domus Infernus curse?" Negi asked in a voice an octave higher than normal.

"My body is," she explained, "however, I'm not in it right now."

"Aisaka-san can't leave the school grounds either," Chamo pointed out.

"No, but wonder boy here could carry me around."

"You mean using a doll like the one Sayo-san travels in?" Negi asked.

"I was thinking of a more intimate arrangement."

Ermine eyes narrowed in suspicion at her reply. "What sort of 'intimate arrangement' do you have in mind?"

"It's simple," Lili answered. "We just merge together and …"

"Ah ha!" Chamo exclaimed. "Don't listen to her big brother; she's trying to possess you."

"Look here rodent," Lili said as the pout morphed into an angry scowl, "If I wanted to possess someone, I'd chose an easy target, like one of these empty headed students running about."

Unease gripped the young mage as Negi recalled the time he and Sayo had merged hands. By accident, the girl had stimulated one of his pleasure centers, a situation that could have led to a more than awkward result. Giving the lilim a chance to do the same was a risk he'd rather avoid. "Sorry Lili-san …"

"What if I make it worth your wild then?" the demon interjected. "You brought back a powerful artifact from Hawaii, right?"

"How did you know?" Chamo demanded.

"That's not something you can keep quiet," she answered in a conspiratorial whisper. "Do you know how to use it?"

Boy and ermine glanced at each other as the borrowed mouth stretched into a predatory smile. "You do this for me, and I'll tell you what I know about the Magatama."

--

From her vantage point on the trapeze platform, Zazie could view the crowded field where the circus practiced. Acrobats, jugglers, animal handlers and even a fire-eater worked hard to perfect their performances for the upcoming festival. Searching through a sea of faces, she smiled slightly upon spotting Yuna's.

Since Tatsumiya-san was busy at the temple, her classmate had a free afternoon so she had invited Yuna to watch the day's practice. Dressed in a pair of shorts and tee-shirt with the words "On Target" written across the front, the girl seemed blissfully unaware of the number of heads craned to get a better look at curves ill-concealed by such tight clothing.

Theirs was a strange friendship Zazie thought. Truthfully, the two girls were little alike other than each desired to improve her skills. Yuna was loud, brash and confident, at times, to the point of arrogance. On the other hand, the dark-haired girl possessed a boundless vitality and a dogged sense of determination. No matter how many times the other girl got discouraged and was on the edge of giving up, her classmate never failed to get back up and try once more. Even the clan elders could appreciate that.

As the catcher dropped down, with knees firmly hooked over the distant bar, Zazie blocked out other thoughts and began to count, 'jekh … du … trin …'

With a seeming effortlessness born of years of practice, she leapt from the platform and swung out into space. Back and forth she moved, seeking to match the catcher's rhythm. Forward, backwards, forward, backwards Zazie swung like the weighted end of a pendulum, altering her arc with subtle shifts of her body until the proper moment when she released the bar.

Her partner swung away as she tucked her legs in and rotated once in place. He reached the apex and began swinging back on her second rotation. After the third she stretched out to grasp the approaching hands, but barely brushed the catcher's fingers as gravity pulled the girl down. Zazie bounced against the taut lines of a safety net and, with an expression of disgust on her face, slipped to the ground as both Yuna and the club president approached.

"Are you alright Zazie-san?" the president asked. She answered with a quick nod. Scanning her leotard-clad figure from top to bottom, lingering on her chest a little longer than necessary, the young man then asked, "Ready for another go?"

Again she replied with a single nod and after a grin to let Yuna know she was fine, headed back to the ladder. Japanese girls didn't have a monopoly on determination, or stubbornness for that matter.

After practice and changed back into street clothing, the tattooed teen mentally called out and a white bird darted to her. Perched upon a shoulder, it chattered so that she could barely keep up with its rapid speech.

"May I go play? May I go play?" the little bird twittered over and over like a child pleading for playground time.

"With whom?" she asked.

"With that one," came an answering chirp as a beak pointed to nearby tree limb where a bird with midnight black feathers was settled. Zazie recognized the raven as the one who was searching for his lost mate just last week. The black bird dipped in imitation of a bow while her feathered friend eagerly hopped from foot to foot waiting for permission. Lips turned upwards as she nodded and both birds were instantly aloft.

"What'cha doing?" a grinning Yuna asked.

Cocking her head to the side, she regarded the approaching girl. Since the night of the massacre, when everyone she had ever known was lost, Zazie had not called anyone a friend until Yuna and Asuna had both extended their hands during the class trip. Thinking back to previous card readings, she wondered again about the Knight of Cups and who that might be. The Knight was called the Romantic Dreamer, one whose ideas opened the heart and brought the deepest feelings into focus.

At first, Zazie had thought this might be Negi-san, and later perhaps that it was Markham-sensei who had so unexpectedly re-entered her life. Now she wondered if the card hadn't referred to Yuna all along.

"Nothing," she eloquently shrugged in response.

"How about coming with me to the video store?" Yuna asked. "I want to see if their copy of 'Ju-on' has been returned yet."

Yuna's route to the store meandered across the campus and nearby shopping district, but Zazie didn't mind. Thoughts seemed clearer whenever she walked; probably a holdover from her months of wandering in Kosovo.

"Hey," Yuna suddenly called out. "That's Negi-kun."

Sure enough, their pint-sized, former teacher was striding down the sidewalk with the panty-stealing ermine balanced on his shoulder. Agitated whispers from the shadowy creatures that followed her reached the girl's ears and Zazie examined the boy wizard closer. Gazing with her second sight, the edges of Negi's form were blurred, like ghostly images that sometimes surrounded characters on a television screen. "Come," she beckoned.

Chamo bent towards the youngster's ear and Negi's head snapped up in response. "Hello Yuna-san, Zazie-san."

As the boy's eyes swept their figures, much like the club president's had, the blurring intensified. Understanding came as Zazie recalled the incident when Aisaka-san temporary possessed Yuna in an attempt to communicate with the class. But Aisaka-san was at the temple with the others, so what spirit had possessed her mentor and for what purpose?

Yuna was inviting him to come along with them when Negi suddenly cut her off and pulled a card bearing Kagurazaka's picture out. Placing it against his forehead, he seemed to lapse into a trance. Zazie wasn't very familiar with pactio cards, however she knew enough to realize he was communicating with his first partner. "I'm sorry," he apologized, "but something's come up."

"I'll come with you," Zazie stated.

Before he could argue, Yuna added "Me too."

He tried to refuse but the acrobat stopped him with "Am I member of Team Negi or not?"

"I know I haven't done much to earn your trust," Yuna pleaded, "but I never will if you don't give me a chance."

"Big brother." Conflicting emotions appeared on the eleven year old boy's face as the ermine leaned in closer. "Big brother, extra help might come in handy."

"But Yuna," he started to argue.

"I've been training really hard with Mana-san ever since we got back from the class trip," the dark-haired girl interrupted. "And the headmaster told us we all have something to contribute."

"This isn't a game Yuna," Negi replied. "These are dangerous people we're fighting. I wouldn't want to see you hurt or worse."

"I'm already involved in this no matter what any of us want professor." Having so rarely addressed Negi by his title, all could tell how serious Yuna was. "Please let me prove myself worthy."

Worthy of whom, Negi undoubtedly knew. Yuna's mother had been an agent of Everlasting Wind alongside her partner and husband. Her quest to emulate the woman mirrored the boy's own attempts to follow in his father's footsteps. "Very well," he conceded. "We need to hurry to the train station."

--

"I'd like to speak with you Miss Kugimiya, but I'll be busy with the after school study group this afternoon," Markham-sensei had told her at the end of class. "Could you meet me at the World Tree later? Say about six?"

In the years she had been at Mahora, Madoka had heard any number of tales about the World Tree. Stories of couples that pledged their love beneath the tree were a staple around the dormitory, but if she was certain of anything, it was that sensei wasn't about to confess his undying devotion today. Yet what did he want to speak about? He wouldn't chose there to discuss school work.

Although her watch showed ten minutes before six, the girl hurried along the path. Up ahead, she saw sensei pacing beneath the tree. As an elementary student, Madoka had once visited a small zoo and remembered how the lion paced back and forth within its tiny cage like that. Halting, the girl stood a moment and gathered her thoughts. Ishikawa-sensei had said she should tell Mister Markham about her feelings, explaining that even rejection was preferable to the uncertainty she was experiencing. 'Easy for her to say,' the teen thought.

"Markham-sensei," she called out.

At first the man seemed relieved, but then his expression turned anxious. "I'm glad you could make it Madoka-san," Phillip said. "I have something very important to discuss with you."

Hesitantly, she walked over. "What would that be?"

"I was speaking with Ishikawa-sensei this morning," the man explained. "She informed me that one of my students had, in her words, 'developed strong feelings' for me."

Her world ground to a halt at his words. "I think you understand the importance of maintaining proper discipline in class," he continued, "and how student-teacher relationships contribute to that discipline."

"Yes," she replied with downcast eyes.

"You also no doubt appreciate why this has to be resolved quickly," Phillip commented. "That's why I've asked you here."

Knowing what would come next, Madoka couldn't force her gaze upwards.

"I need your advice Madoka-san."

Her eyes snapped up instantly and in a confused voice she asked, "Excuse me? My advice?"

"Yes," her teacher replied. "You're her classmate after all."

"My classmate? Who are we talking about sensei?"

"Sakurazaki-san," the man answered.

Sakurazaki-san? She knew, along with the rest of the high school, that Markham had gone to Kyoto with Setsuna and the others; however, no one could have guessed this outcome. 'This is too crazy,' she thought while glancing around for a momentary respite. The teen's eyes were drawn to the great tree and its lower branches.

"You haven't been up the tree yet have you?" the girl asked and then headed for the trunk. "C'mon. You've got to see the view."

"Madoka-san," he called out. "Isn't your outfit a little inappropriate for tree climbing?"

Glancing done at her short hemline, she smiled. "Don't worry sensei," Madoka said while lifting the hem up a few, revealing centimeters. "These shorts are designed to look like a skirt."

Minutes later, she strode along one of the wider limbs. "When I was younger, I heard there was a spirit that lived in this tree," the teen said as she stopped and gracefully spun about. "I must have spent that whole school year trying to catch a glimpse."

Sitting down, she watched as her teacher carefully edged his way towards her. "So Ishikawa-sensei told you that Sakurazaki-san has feelings for you?" Madoka asked as Phillip sat next to her.

"She didn't mention any names," he answered. "But I don't know who else she could have meant."

"You did notice how strangely she acted in class this morning?" the man asked. "Something is definitely bothering her. And then we … uh … sort of … went out together."

"You went on a date with her?"

"It wasn't a date exactly," he quickly replied. "Konoka-san was on an o-miai and Setsuna-san went with her. I tagged along so she wouldn't be unescorted. It was more like being a chaperon."

Remembering Konoka's words during the card reading, Madoka took a deep breath before plunging into the murky depths. "Ishikawa-sensei wasn't talking about Sakurazaki-san," the girl admitted. "She was talking about me."

Phillip stared at her in shock. He tried to speak a couple of times, but close his mouth each time, unable to voice his thoughts. Finally, he turned away. "I'm sorry Madoka-san," the man said. A self-depreciating chuckle escaped his mouth before he added, "I must have seemed a total ass just now."

They sat for moment, silently gazing at branches swayed by an errant breeze.

"Sensei, I do understand about us being student and teacher," she told him. "I also realize that you're my parents' age, but knowing that hasn't stopped me from liking you."

"Those are important points to keep in mind," Phillip replied, "but they're not the most important one."

"What is?"

"Sixteen years ago, while I was stationed in Texas, I met a very nice woman named Jessica," he explained. "We married the following year."

"Jessica was a wonderful person; however, she never understood the military and how I could be ordered to move halfway around the world at a moment's notice. When I was transferred to Oklahoma that summer, she could handle that. But six years later, when I was transferred to Europe, she didn't like the idea of living in a foreign country."

"I thought it was all a great adventure, so I didn't understand how it felt for her to give up her job and leave everything she knew to live in some place where they didn't speak a language she could understand. Then when we got to Brussels, we found out she was pregnant. She miscarried two months later."

He fell silent for so long, Madoka was about to say something when Phillip started speaking again. "I was devastated after that, but I tried to be strong thinking that would help Jessica. One night she snapped at me, accusing me of not caring one bit about our baby. I didn't know what to say or do … I walked out of our flat and didn't come back till the next day. She was gone by then."

"I guess if I had gone after her right then she might have come back, but I didn't. Maybe it was the only way I could cope with the pain, but I threw myself into the job, taking every project that came my way just to give me an excuse not to go back to the apartment. The divorce papers arrived six months later."

"Mister Markham … I"

"She should have been the most important person in my life," Phillip quietly declared, "and I let her go without so much as a whimper of protest. This was the one relationship I should have succeeded at … and I failed … miserably. "

"I think you're being too hard on yourself sensei."

"You don't understand Madoka-san."

"No, I don't" she agreed as the pair faced each other.

"Maybe it's a selfish viewpoint, but I believe that the most important person in your life," the girl said as she placed a palm against the man's chest, "is right here."

Without further thought, Madoka continued to lean into her teacher until their lips met. No heavenly choir broke into chorus at their kiss, and if they had, the girl would have begrudged the interruption. Several heartbeats later, they parted, neither paying attention as branches rustled again.

"Madoka-san I … I like you as well," Phillip confessed, "but our relationship can't go any farther in this direction. I was brought to Mahora to help prepare you girls. I won't be able to meet my responsibility to you all if …"

"I understand," Madoka replied as her throat tightened. "I guess it's time to go down now."

The anxious look returned to the man's face prompting her to ask what the problem was.

"Have I ever mentioned that heights make me uncomfortable?"

--

**Tokyo, Japan**

"See!" Yuna triumphantly pointed to the matched grave markers. "I told you that picture was of Hachiko's grave."

"There are no useless pieces of data," her father had informed Yuna at the end of a juvenile tirade against the evils of mathematics homework. "The most trivial seeming fact can be the final piece needed to solve a complex problem." While she had to agree with his statement, it did little to explain why she had to factor polynomials in algebra class.

During one of Nitta-sensei's innumerable lectures, the Ogre had once trotted out the story of Hachiko, the faithful dog who continued to wait for his master's return even after the man had passed away years before. The school's chief disciplinarian had mentioned the little Akita to illustrate his point and even if she hadn't remembered what the man was talking about, Yuna recalled the dog who was buried next to his owner in the Aoyama Reien.

'Maybe I should thank the Ogre when we get back,' the ballplayer thought to herself. 'Naw, that would only get him started again.'

"Let's start searching for any sign of Kimiaki-san," Negi said as the group began to fan out.

"Not so fast Big Brother," Chamo warned. The ermine sniffed about the trail for a moment and then added, "One of Fate's ministra has been here recently."

"How can you tell?" Asuna asked as a dark scowl fixed itself to the girl's face.

"I have my ways."

"Never mind that," Negi quickly cut in. "Which one was it and how long ago?"

"It was the Fire Starter," Chamo answered.

"Homura-san?" Negi lapsed into thought and then faced Yuna. "This is too dangerous for you to be here if Fate is involved."

"Yuna-san proved capable during our battle in the mall," Zazie pointed out. "And Tatsumiya-san's training has been no less intense than Imma-san's."

"I mean no offense to either her or Tatsumiya-san," Negi responded, "but Yuna is the least capable of defending herself if this turns into a battle. We simply can't afford …"

"Is it any less dangerous for me to leave Professor?" she interrupted. "Who's to say that white-haired guy isn't watching right now, waiting for us to split up?"

"Yuna-san has a point," Setsuna agreed.

"And there is something you can do to help her Big Brother." The dollar signs flashing in Chamo's eyes were unmistakable. Also unmistakable was the crunch of Asuna's foot as it squashed the greedy ermine down into a pile of leaves.

"No time for that," the girl declared while fixing her gaze on Negi. "You still don't trust us do you bozu?"

"It's not a matter of trust."

"Then what is it?" Asuna challenged. "Do you believe we won't watch each other's backs?"

"Of course you will," Negi responded. "I'm concerned for Yuna's safety."

"There are times your 'concern' royally pisses me off," Asuna told him while ignoring the squirming beneath her sneaker. "Each of us knows the risk and still chose to be here with you baka. Deal with it."

"Ane-san … please," Chamo pleaded.

Finally released, the ermine dug into the leave and uncovered a cell phone. Asuna bent down to pick it up and both she and Setsuna recognized it as belonging to the missing man.

"Chamo-kun, can you follow Homura-san's scent?" Negi asked.

"There's a stronger one I think is Kimiaki-san's," the rodent answered. "It leads that way."

Following the scampering ermine led them to a marble tomb. Asuna and Zazie flanked the doors while Negi began a spell. Setsuna stood to the boy's side with her nodachi ready as Asuna grabbed the door handle and jerked it open. Light streamed into the opening revealing a gagged figure bound to a chair.

"There is a spell trigger set up around him," Negi told them. "Rainyday-san, I want you to cut him loose."

"Asuna," the boy continued as Zazie's fingernails grew into dagger-like talons, "try to nullify the spell before it activates."

Yuna stood just outside the mausoleum's doorway, trying to look over the boy wizard's shoulder. Kimiaki-san seemed agitated as the pair approached him and struggled against the ropes tying him down. "It's just us," Asuna tried to assure him.

"Aiyee!" Yuna yelped as the seat of her shorts exploded into flames. Lurching forward, she stumbled into Negi. Chamo leapt away from the falling boy and into Setsuna judging by the swordswoman's surprised oath. Light flared about them as magic circles materialized around the chair and in the doorway.

"Sensei," she cried before the world turned black.

--

**A/N: The chapter heading comes from the opening sentence of "Under the Cherry Trees", a short story by Japanese author Kaji'I Motojiro.**

**The Aoyama Cemetery is real and is the final resting place for the faithful dog Hachiko as well as several Japanese and foreign notables.**

**I hope your New Year is a safe and enjoyable one. Mine will probably be spent playing the Beatles Rock Band. **


	37. Chapter 37

**A/N: Well it's been more than a month since my last chapter, but in my defense this one is about twice as long as I normally do. Many thanks to Fionn the Otaku for his suggestions and another big thank you to Makuhari-Fan01 for all of his help. For those of you who might have missed it, his "Ala Alba in the World of Magic" has greatly influenced the "Markham Chronicles" as well as the reverse. I have borrowed several elements from "Ala Alba", particularly from chapter 5 where Yuna's condition is explained.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns both "Negima" and "Love Hina" and their characters. Arjuent Teotanasia is the creation of Makuhari-Fan01 and is used with his permission. Other characters used are of my invention. Lili, the succubus, is also referred to as Himeiko depending upon whose view point I am writing from. Sorry for the confusion.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells" and **-telepathy-**. **

**The Demon Inside**

**Please won't you help me make sense of what I said I'd never be** – Element Eighty

--

**Tokyo, Japan**

Although the distance between Mahora and Tokyo wasn't great, the train ride had seemed exceptionally long to Setsuna. A long and quiet one, ripe for introspection.

"Konoka's my friend," Asuna had declared outside the Tatsumiya Shrine. "And so is Setsuna."

Friendship was all well and good, the Shinmei-Ryu told herself, but it wasn't enough. Not by a long shot. A sense of discontent had been growing since the beginning of the term. Only recently had Setsuna identified its cause. The swordswoman wanted to be loved. No, it was more than that.

Setsuna wanted to fill another's thoughts; to be looked at and found desirable as a woman. She wanted someone to gaze at her like Markham-sensei had Evangeline's illusory self or Kimiaki-san did Konoka. Or even as Negi did Asuna back at Cinema Village. But such an event was far into the future, if ever. The Shinmei-Ryu was sworn to protect her Ojou-sama, and that left no time for romance.

'If only I was a man and Kono-chan could love me,' she thought and then felt the heat as her cheeks colored a shameful red. It was a thought she had hundreds of times and it always brought the same reaction. Despite the many hints and suggestions that Konoka would welcome a "closer" relationship, Setsuna could never get beyond perceiving such as "impure." No matter how desperately she hungered for it, the swordswoman steadfastly maintained that women should not act so with one another, particularly when one had a duty to protect the other at all costs.

Watching her friend "revive" the lilim had been more than painful. A hurt deeper than any battle wound still festered within. If Setsuna failed to act soon, it would turn poisonous and the teen would lose everything she had worked so hard to gain.

Looking at the situation with a clear sight, the swordswoman knew that her initial actions were inspired by jealousy. After that came the awful realization that even if she and Konoka became "more than friends" it couldn't last once they graduated. Since the moment Konoka was born, her friend was destined to heal the breach between the Kanto and Kansai Associations and provide heirs for a proper succession. Despite all that magic or technology could accomplish, the latter required the girl to marry.

With Konoka at the helm, a new golden age could be ushered in, one free from the strife and discord that affected current affairs. Into this picture, Setsuna had no right to intrude. Remaining at Konoka's side was sure to cause tensions between husband and wife. And if she was always protecting Konoka, what chance would she have to find her own love and happiness?

Back during the battle with Evangeline, Setsuna had boldly declared her intention to hold onto both sword and happiness. What a naïve child she had been. The train pulled into the station and the small party departed. Memories of the vampire's laughter mocked her all the way from the station's platform to the cemetery.

Asuna and Zazie entered the crypt while Negi observed from the doorway with Yuna crowded closely behind the boy. Setsuna understood that she was the rear-guard. Yet thoughts other than looking for signs of danger distracted her.

Could she remain in the shadows, watching over her friend? Or would her own, selfish desires bring ruin down upon them all like some type of distorted Arthurian tragedy?

'Perhaps it would be best if I left,' Setsuna decided. 'Another guard can be easily assigned.'

'A small village in the Mundus Magicus, like that one outside Nyandom, could always use a good sword,' the Shinmei-Ryu considered. 'Maybe I could use it as a home base.'

Yuna's yelp snapped the girl out of her thoughts. Berating her inattention, Setsuna's gaze swiveled to the door as her classmate lurched into Negi. Chamo leapt off the boy's shoulder and towards her face. Her hand reached out and snatched the ermine out of the air, quickly clasping him against a shoulder. "Negi-sensei!" she shouted as twin, magic circles activated. In the blink of an eye, Setsuna and the ermine were left staring into the empty crypt.

--

Pain. Yuna remembered the pain and her eyes snapped open to more darkness. Air stirred softly against the girl's cheek as hands clenched reflexively, grabbing fistfuls of fabric. Pushing to a sitting position brought a low groan from beneath. "Negi-kun?" she asked.

Another groan answered and Yuna quickly scrambled from on top of her former teacher, calling "Negi-kun? Are you alright?"

"Wha …" a voice said weakly. "What happened?"

"It felt like my shorts had caught fire and I stumbled into you." Words rushed out in a torrent. "And as we fell, a magic circle appeared … and now I don't know where we are."

"Calm down," his reassuring voice replied. "Are you okay?"

About to answer that she was fine, fabric pressed against her seat and Yuna gasped in pain while tears welled up. Negi called her name but she could only whimper in response. A hastily muttered spell later, a ball of light floated in the air, revealing that they were in a natural cave. In the light, she could see a line of dried blood down the side of the young boy's face. "Oh Negi-kun," the girl exclaimed. "You're hurt!"

Negi reached up and touched his injury, wincing as he made contact. "I must have hit when we landed," the boy surmised. "I'll be fine Yuna-san, let's see about you.

"That looks like a serious burn," he said while examining her scorched backside. "Can you pull down your shorts?"

A shocked "Wh-a-a-a-t?" rumbled out of her mouth like a roll of thunder.

"I need to see how badly you're burned before I cast a healing spell," the boy calmly answered.

During the past year, Negi had seen her and other classmates in varying stages of undress. Parading nearly naked in front of the boy hadn't posed a problem before. Though she couldn't find fault with his reasoning, a sense of unease gripped the teenage student. 'He's only eleven,' Yuna thought to herself as she unsnapped the fasteners and cautiously tugged down. 'But isn't that when boys start to get interested in girls?'

"Um …" she heard from behind.

"What now?" Yuna asked in a slightly irritated voice.

"You need to remove your underpants too."

Teeth ground together as her first response was swiftly throttled into submission. With a slowness born of pain and embarrassment, Yuna gripped the waistband of her panties and pulled down.

Negi's voice dropped in pitch as foreign phrases fell from his lips in a stately cadence.

"**Utilis phasmatis audite meus placitum. Ego dico super vestri ops vigoratus. Procul meus tactus, planto universus unus pro mihi a capite ad calcem.**"

"I'm going to touch you," he warned. The sudden switch to Japanese was jarring after the almost hypnotic quality of the Latin chant. Cringing in anticipation, Yuna was surprised as a cool wave washed over her blistered flesh. Pain was forgotten and tensed muscles relaxed as hands gently glided across bare skin.

"How do you feel now?" Negi asked.

"G-g-good," she stammered as a tingling sensation started to build.

'Oh God,' Yuna thought to herself. 'I could just imagine if Asuna-san and the others walked in right now.'

Musings were cut short as a pair of hands firmly gripped her bottom and squeezed. A red haze clouded her vision as Yuna twisted about and gazed furiously at the youngster whose expression resembled the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.

"Um, I'm checking to see if, uh, there's any damage to muscles or other tissue below the, ah …"

Yuna didn't let Negi finish with the explanation as her fist barreled into his nose. Glasses flew off the young boy's face as he landed on his back once more.

--

A blue-white orb bobbed in front of the pair, illuminating the narrow tunnel they walked down. Dried blood flecked the young boy's chin and coat while the ragged edges of a wadded tissue poked out of one nostril. Once her indignation had subsided, Yuna had nearly fallen over herself in apologizing for punching him. Of course, she had every reason to be angry.

'Sorry,' a not quit contrite sounding thought echoed in his mind. 'I couldn't help myself.'

Images of his former student's bare bottom appeared as Lili continued, 'It was just so round, so firm …'

'You're not helping the situation any,' Negi angrily thought back. 'We need to concentrate on finding the others and getting out of here.'

"What was that Negi-kun?" Yuna asked, catching him by surprise.

"I was just thinking out loud," the boy answered. "We need to locate everybody and get out of this place."

"I messed everything up again didn't I?" the girl complained. "Just like at that Stonehenge-like place."

"What happened in Wales wasn't your fault," Negi swiftly responded. "McDowell-san was responsible for that."

Concerned about 'protecting her investment' as she put it, Evangeline had reestablished her control over Yuna and compelled the girl to follow Ala Alba into the Mundus Magicus. With Yuna and the other sports girls serving as her proxies, the vampire expected to be able to bring everyone back in the event of an emergency. Unfortunately, the undead mage hadn't foreseen Fate's attack or the forced teleportation spell.

With the gateports out of commission and everyone scattered across the Magic World, Evangeline had no choice but to abandon her original plan and leave Yuna in place. That allowed the effects of the petite vampire's magic to spread through the girl unchecked. After two months, the process had run its course and his student had been completely enthralled, beyond the ability of even Konoka's mass healing spell to cure. Upon their return to Wales, Meldiana's Grand Magus sealed the ball playing teen to prevent Evangeline from ever reasserting control. Save for occasional bad dreams and a desire to watch the gorier types of horror movies, Yuna had seemed none the worse for the experience.

"As for our current situation," he continued, "we all were taken unaware."

"Thanks," she replied as her grin reappeared. Though it was a strained one, Negi felt it was a step in the right direction.

'Why haven't you locked lips with this girl and added her to your harem?' Lili's thought came to him.

'I don't have a harem!' Negi answered. 'And I certainly wasn't looking to make any pactios!'

"Are you okay?" Once again the young mage had spoken aloud and Yuna's gaze was full of concern.

"I'm sorry Yuna-san,' he apologized. "I'm just having a little debate with myself."

"We're in a pretty serious situation, right?" the teen asked.

"I won't lie to you," Negi replied. "Fate Averruncus and his ministra are extremely dangerous."

Yuna stopped. A determined expression was fixed to her face. "I have a confession to make."

Little hairs stood up along the back of Negi's neck. "What sort of confession?"

"I was cleaning up my father's study and found some family pictures," she answered. "According to my mother's notes, we were visiting McGuiness-san in Wales sometime during December of 1993."

"One of the photographs showed me holding a little bundle that could have been a baby," Yuna continued. "On the back, my mother had written a question."

"What question was that," the boy asked as the pit of his stomach began to feel queasy.

"Future partners?"

Negi was sure his face reflected the shock he felt.

"I thought about what she wrote as I watched you make a pactio with Akira," she continued. "It made me realize how special her relationship with my father was. And when Setsuna-san told Makie and I that we hadn't earned the right to make a pactio, I knew it was the truth."

"Yuna," Negi began but words deserted him.

"I know it doesn't seem like I'm taking this very seriously, but I do sensei," the girl earnestly told him. "Training under Mana-san has made me realize that I have a long way to go, but I still want to help you and the others."

An unvoiced "Am I worthy" hung in the air between them. Of all his former students, Yuna still rated as one of the least mature, though maturity hadn't been the hallmark of his selections to date. But the question was mute since they didn't have a witness for the contract.

'Ta da da!' rang loudly. 'I have your witness right here wonder boy!'

'What do mean?' he confusedly thought back.

'I mean I'll be your witness,' Lili explained. 'I can draw the magic circle and watch as you two go at it.'

"Go at it?" Negi shouted aloud. "It's not like we're going to make out!"

"Sensei?"

Negi looked back at Yuna, who had taken a step back and was anxiously staring at him. "I'm having a telepathic conversation," he hastily explained. "The other person has agreed to witness our pactio … that is … if you want to be my partner Yuna-san."

Doubt instantly vanished, replaced by her earlier determination. "Yes sensei," she answered. "I do."

Negi felt detached as his hand moved under the lilim's direction. Fingertips traced mystic symbols that glowed with a soft, green light and floated a bare centimeter above the tunnel floor. Apprehension gnawed at the youngster's gut as he watched the flowing lines come into existence. He was making another provisional pactio; binding another person to him, and placing her squarely in the center of his tempestuous life.

Few mages could successfully operate without a partner. As powerful as his father was said to be, Nagi had a number of partners to back him up as well. A few suggested that the title the Thousand Master referred to the number of pactios the man had rather than spells mastered. Considering that his father was a magic school dropout, it was easy to see where that rumor started; however, it didn't change the fact that even Nagi Springfield found it necessary to have a partner.

Still, the boy was torn by this decision. Save for perhaps Setsuna-san, Yuna had a better understanding of what being a partner meant. If she was correct, her mother had seen a pactio between them as a possibility. Negi couldn't help but wonder what that woman would be thinking now. 'Dear God! What will her father say?'

Professor Akashi was another of Mahora's mage teachers. Formerly an agent of Everlasting Wind, the man was currently on a mission. Negi had a little interaction with Yuna's father, mostly for parent-teacher conferences, but had no idea how the professor would react to this. Images of the mild mannered professor, wildly brandishing a shot-gun, sprang to life as the circle was completed.

'Don't get cold feet now,' Lili said. 'Besides, any mage would be proud if his daughter brought home a catch like you.'

'This is only a provisional pactio,' he quickly reminded the demon. 'Don't treat it like an engagement.'

'If you say so.'

'It's only a kiss,' the young mage steadfastly maintained.

'Sure, sure,' the succubus dismissively replied, and then after a pause added, 'That is, if you want it to only be a kiss.'

'What do you mean?'

'A contract like this requires something more meaningful than shaking hands to activate,' Lili answered. 'Kissing is the easiest though not the only means to do so.'

Not liking where the conversation was heading, Negi tried to steer away from that subject. 'We'll keep it to a kiss thank you.'

'But even the quality of the kiss effects the quality of the pactio,' the demon responded. 'A peck on the cheek can hardly muster enough magic to make your skin tingle; however, one on the lips …'

Memories of kissing Asuna on the bridge flashed before his eyes. Negi had never kissed a girl in that way before. With perfect recall he experienced again the felling of her lips on his … the warmth of her hands pressed against his cheeks … a tongue probing for his and finding it. A mental chuckle snapped him back to the present.

'I guess you do know all about that,' Lili remarked as the area below his belt began to stir. Heat rushed into Negi's cheeks as the demon added, 'The more intimate your contact is, the more magic is concentrated in the spell.'

Sweat beaded on the youngster's brow as he stood and chill air raised a host of goose bumps. Yuna shivered and rubbed her bare arms. "Nervous?" he asked.

"A little," the girl admitted. "What now sensei?"

"We need to stand in the center of the circle, facing each other," Negi informed her.

Being so close, he couldn't help but notice how her chest rose and fell beneath the cotton tee-shirt. His mind pictured hands reaching up to grope those tantalizing mounds. 'Stop putting ideas in my head!' he mentally shouted.

'Don't blame me wonder boy,' the demon smugly replied. 'That one was your's.'

Tilting his head up, the boy meet Yuna's gaze. "Are you ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be." His student's face was flushed as she leaned down.

Lips met and the circle's light flared into brilliance. Arms wrapped about each other as their kiss deepened. Breath came in ragged gasps while bodies pressed tightly together in the now stifling cave. Rising heat dimly registered in his consciousness, but the boy couldn't break away even if he had wanted to. Light changed from green to gold, accompanied by a rich, bell-like gong. Super heated air filled his nostrils as the spell faded. Negi barely had time to raise a shield around them before the world exploded in a fiery ball.

Golden dots swam before his gaze as Negi tried to focus on two dark blurs before him. Slowly the shapes resolved into one of Fate's ministra, Homura King, and Yuna. A malicious grin adorned the pyromancer's face as she hauled his unconscious partner up by the hair.

"Don't move little wizard," the ministra warned as her free hand hovered menacingly next to Yuna's throat, "or your new partner goes up in a puff of smoke."

'Are we in trouble?' Lili's thought came.

'You have to ask?' Negi mentally replied. Aloud he asked, "What do you want?"

"What we wanted was the Konoe girl," Homura answered. "But I guess the master will have to settle for you instead."

"Why do you want Konoka-san?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped in reply. "Now, do you cooperate?" the girl asked while shaking her captive by the collar, "Or do I …"

"I'll cooperate," Negi hastily answered.

Her grin grew broader in response. "Good. Your first order is to cast a restriction on your magic for the next 72 hours."

'Lili-san,' he desperately thought, 'if I'm under the effects of a pledge string can you still use magic?'

'I can't think of any reason why not,' the demon answered. 'What do you have in mind?'

'If Homura-san thinks I'm powerless, we might be able to surprise her and turn the tables.'

"Will you let Yuna-san go if I do this?" Negi asked.

"The girl's of no further use to us once you're muzzled."

"Very well," the boy said as he held the lightning-shaped staff in front. "Let's get this over with."

Removing his hands, the staff floated in space and then rose until it hovered just below the cavern roof. Arms stretched above his head as Negi began to chant "**Tria fila nigra promissiva, mihi limitationem per tres dies.**" Black ribbons descended from the staff and wrapped about his arms. Whisk! Snap! The ribbons disappeared, leaving three bands around his forearm.

Homura let her captive drop to the ground and stepped over to the defenseless mage. The pyromancer swung, her fist connected with Negi's face and knocked the boy to his knees. Her expression turned vicious as she exulted "God how I've wanted to do that!" A follow-up kick sent him sprawling. "I've thought of little else for the past six months!"

"Now!" Negi shouted as a sickly green glow enveloped his own fist. The punch caught Homura in the stomach. Shocked filled the ministra's face as the next blow was a solid uppercut to the chin. Backwards she flew, but twisted in mid-air so as to land against the far wall with her feet. Like a spider, the pyromancer clung to her perch. Tiny flames flickered to life as she transformed into her fire sprite form.

"I don't care what Shirabe said!" the girl shrieked. "I'll kill you!"

'If she springs forward, we'll shundo behind her and strike,' Negi dictated.

'Uh oh,' came an unwelcomed response. The demon's aura began to flicker as she continued, 'I may have misjudged how much energy I had left.'

'What?' the boy mentally shouted as an enraged ministra launched herself towards them. Out of the corner of his eye, Negi saw a shape hurtle to intercept Fate's ministra. Snarling, Yuna tackled the other girl and her momentum sent both crashing into the ceiling. Homura's own screech mixed with his new partner's as they landed on their feet and savagely struck at each other. A blazing nimbus surrounded one of the combatants while the other was engulfed by a black, shroud-like aura.

A hand with nails transformed into lethal claws swiped at Homura, who ducked and then set her opponent's clothing ablaze. Burning like a torch, the ballplayer merely growled in fury and attacked again. Claws raked open long gashes along the other's cheek that a bright red spurted from.

Negi's body turned and bolted away from the fight. "Wait," he cried out.

'Sorry wonder boy, but I'm taking control,' Lili told him.

"But Yuna-san …"

'Without magic, we're no help to her,' the demon responded. 'The best thing we can do is get to safety.'

Sounds of the ferocious battle pursued them down the tunnel. Tears streamed down the young boy's face as he ran.

--

"It's just us," Asuna tried to assure the struggling, young man. Her head jerked back to the doorway at Yuna's sudden cry. The dark-haired girl crashed into Negi and both fell to the floor in a heap as twin, magic circles activated. A feeling of vertigo passed swiftly as the teleportation spell whisked her away from the crypt.

"Asuna-san?" Rainyday's voice called from the darkness.

"Zazie-san?" she replied. "Are you okay?"

"**Lumos,**" the acrobat intoned. A summoned ball of light hovered above Zazie's outstretched hand, illuminating a few meters around them. Neatly ordered stacks of wooden crates rose on either side, giving the appearance of a warehouse aisle. Next to them was Kimiaki-san, still bound to the chair. His eyes went wide in shock as one of Zazie's talons sawed through the ropes binding his chest.

Once his hands were free, Shirai removed the knotted kerchief from his mouth. "What's going on Kagurazaka-san?" he asked. "And where did the others go?"

"I don't know," she answered. "Do you have any idea where we are or what Homura-san is planning?"

"Homura-san! You know them?"

"There's more than one? How many are there?"

"One more, Shirabe-san," Shirai answered as his legs were freed. "How do you know those two?"

"We fought them and their friends several months ago," Asuna told him.

"Fought them?" he asked in amazement. "Does Konoka-san know about this?"

"Uh, more or less," she answered and watched as the young man's expression of amazement turned to shock.

"Konoka-san didn't," he started to ask but Zazie cut his question off with one of her own.

"My Japanese is not very good," the foreign girl explained. "Can either of you tell me what this says?"

Carefully stenciled columns of white characters warned to "handle with care." Following the warning was a familiar sounding name. "Property of the Yukihiro Pharmaceutical Group," a surprised Asuna read aloud. Squinting in the faint light, she tried to sound out a string of Latin letters. "Di … chlor … o … thi … a …"

"Dichloro-thiapentane," Shirai softly pronounced. Both girls turned towards the programmer. "Otherwise known as …"

Overhead lights snapped on as another voice from the past called out, "Otherwise known as mustard gas."

Shirabe stood at the far end of the aisle. An unknown device was clutched in the blind girl's fist and dozens of the little, turnip-like creatures from Kyoto milled around her feet. "I understand that the Imperial Japanese Army had several stockpiles of chemical weapons hidden around the capitol to use in case of an invasion by the Americans and their allies."

A thin smiled played about the horned ministra's mouth as Asuna growled "Why you …"

"Be careful Kagurazaka-san," Shirabe warned while brandishing the metal box in her hand. "If I press this button, poisonous gas will flood the room in seconds. You, I and the little dragon there might survive, but I don't think your roommate's boyfriend will be so lucky."

"Are you so sure we can't stop you before you press that button?" Zazie asked in an unconcerned tone.

"Perhaps you could," the horned girl admitted after a slight pause, "but can you stop all of my friends here before they can open enough gas canisters?"

-Keep her busy talking,- Asuna heard Zazie's thought.

"So what do you want Shirabe-san?" she asked in response.

"We want the healer of course," the blind girl answered. "I am surprised that Konoe-san didn't come in person."

"She knows better than to walk into an obvious trap," Asuna scoffed.

"Too bad her friends don't share her good sense," Shirabe remarked.

"Why do you want Konoka-san?" Shirai asked. "Are you looking for a ransom?"

"No, no ransom Shirai-san," the enemy mage answered as a pained look swiftly crossed the girl's face.

-There is an exit behind us,- Zazie thought to her. -I'll distract the girl while you grab Kimiaki-san and run. Head to the back wall and turn left.-

'Wait a minute,' Asuna started to object.

-No time,- the acrobat quickly responded. -Go!-

Without further complaint, Asuna whirled, threw the startled hostage over her shoulder and bolted for the exit.

--

Caught off guard, Shirabe stared dumbly as Springfield-san's first ministra grabbed their hostage and ran away with the young man. Recalling the remote control in her hand, she started to press the button that would release the mustard gas. A flash of white speed towards her and before she knew what had happened, the horned girl was disarmed and pinned against the cave wall. Three, dagger-like talons pressed against her throat as words in a tongue spoken long before her world was created came to her on whisper-soft wings. "You've lost this challenge."

"Challenge?' she thought and then remembered the dragon-girl's question about stopping her from releasing the gas. Feelings of failure threatened to overwhelm the sightless musician. "Then have done with it," she groaned.

"You have an obligation to me now," the little dragon-girl reminded her.

"I'm not a full-blood," she protested.

"Neither am I," her conqueror replied. "But that doesn't change the fact I made a challenge and you accepted."

"What do you want then Ryu-san?"

"Tell me the reason you want the healer."

"My employers …" she began but was quickly silenced.

"No, not their reason," the dragon-girl said. "You tell me why you want the healer."

Looked upon by their mightier cousins as some sort of bastardized race, Shirabe's people had dwelt apart from "true dragons" for centuries. Living in secluded communities among the few remaining forests of the Mundus Magicus, the Woodwoses stubbornly clung to their common ancestry. According to their ancient traditions, to deny a fairly lost challenge was to court the direst of calamities. "You know what she did at the end of last year's Peace Festival?" she hesitantly asked.

"Yes," came the terse response.

"Anyone who can do that must have great power," Shirabe said and then licked her lips before continuing. "Enough power to help my friend …"

--

Racing through pitch-black tunnels, the din of battle soon faded, leaving only the sound of feet pounding on pulverized limestone and labored breathing. However, Lili dared not slacken her pace. She had left an enraged fire sprite and a creature that seemed more demonic than herself far behind and had no intention of facing either one again. This was not how the day was supposed to turn out.

Once the healer had explained that Lili would exchange bodies with a ghost, the demon seized the opportunity to escape. It had been easy to convince wonder boy to carry her beyond the confines of Mahora. Once in Tokyo, finding another host to posses and losing herself in the crowd would have been a simple matter, if somebody hadn't decided to play the hero.

Thinking of Negi brought the boy's feeling of pain for deserting his new partner and anger at Lili for forcing him to back with a vengeance. 'We didn't have any choice kid,' she pointed out and then wondered why as her companion continued his silent brooding. 'Are you listening?'

'Fine! Go ahead and sulk!' the demon snapped at him as they rounded a corner. 'See if I care!'

Wham! Down they went in a tangle of bodies. Lili was aware of an elbow digging into the boy's stomach and something much softer pressed against his chest. A gentle breath brushed against neck and chin as their assailant voiced an "Uh, what?"

"Asuna?"

"Negi!" the girl cried and then hugged the boy tightly. "Thank God you're alright."

While most adolescent boys dreamed of finding themselves in just such a position, Lili swiftly discovered that being able to breathe was a more important consideration. "Asuna!" a muffled voice shouted into the teen's chest.

"Sorry bozu," the girl apologized as she released him. "Kimiaki-san," she called out next.

"Kimiaki-san is with you?"

"Yeah." Lili heard the girl fumble around and then curse upon finding the now unconscious man. "Out like a light."

"Where's Yuna-san?" she asked in turn.

"Back behind me," the demon answered. "She's fighting Homura-san."

"What? Idiot, why aren't you with her?"

"Homura-san got the drop on us," Lili explained. "My magic's been sealed for the next three days."

"Stay with Kimiaki-san," Asuna ordered as the girl stood. "I'm going to help Yuna-san."

Once positive that Asuna was gone, Lili spared the energy for a small light. The corners of Negi's mouth lifted up as the demon smiled. Not very handsome she decided, but beggars couldn't be choosers. Skin began to stretch as the bones and muscles beneath altered their size and position.

'What are you doing to me?' wonder boy's thoughts screamed at her.

'Extreme circumstances call for extreme measures,' she replied.

--

"Shirai-kun."

Slowly his eyes opened in response to the call. Konoka's face hovered over him like some fantastic dream. Suddenly Shirai bolted up and hugged the girl fiercely. "Konoka-san," the young man cried. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"There, there," the girl crooned while gently patting his back. "You're safe now."

Shirai pushed away from her, an anxious expression on his face. "Konoka-san, what's going on?" he asked. A note of desperation was in his voice as he glanced at the floating light sphere and continued, "How can you do this?"

"I'm a wizard," his dream girl answered.

"A … a wizard?"

"I'll explain later, but first we need to get out of here," Konoka told him.

"A wizard?" he numbly repeated.

"Yes, a wizard," she replied. "In order to escape, I'll need something from you first."

The anxious look appeared again as lurid visions of anime-inspired human sacrifices paraded before his eyes. "What … what's that?"

In an instant, Konoka had pressed against him, her mouth clamped on his with vise-like intensity. Fingers gripped the front of his shirt and jerked them apart; buttons flew in every direction as this seeming tigress continued to shred his clothing. Flat on his back again, Shirai looked up in shock at the girl straddling his waist. Her face seemed transformed into that of a wild animal. This had to be all a horrid dream.

As she pulled the tee-shirt above her head, a shout rang out. "**Zanmaken ni no tachi!**"

A shimmering arc of air struck Konoka's back and passed through her, ejecting a white mist from the frenzied girl who then slumped forward in a faint. Sword in hand, a grim Setsuna strode forward, looking every bit like an avenging angel. Or would have had it not been for a white furred weasel riding upon her shoulder.

"What did you do to Konoka-san?" Shirai shouted.

"That isn't Ojou-sama," the swordswoman answered as the weasel leapt off her and scampered over.

"Of course it is," Shirai started and then stopped as the rodent pawed at an unconscious boy lying atop him. "What the …?"

Pointing with the nodachi, Setsuna indicated a misty shape that resembled a middle-school aged girl wearing an old fashioned uniform. "That demon was responsible."

Looking from the demon to the unconscious boy, a sick feeling ballooned in the pit of Shirai's stomach. "You mean … I was almost … by a boy?"

"Do not dwell on it Kimiaki-san," Setsuna said. "I will avenge you all and redeem your honor."

Two coal-black eyes stared out from the girl's pale face as Setsuna walked past him. The very air around the swordswoman rippled as she halted in front of the groaning spirit. "I will not permit you to defile those I care for any more."

Quickly scooting back, the demon raised a hand in a halting gesture. "Don't do anything rash," the spirit exclaimed. "I was trying to help."

"You are a foul abomination," Setsuna declared in a steely voice. "Prepare to meet your end."

"If you slay this body, I'll just go back home and reform," the demon hastily reminded her. "Isn't that what you've been trying to avoid?"

"So we have," Setsuna admitted and then sheathed her sword. Turning her back on the demon she returned to Shirai and Negi. "You may remain here then."

"Wa … wait! You can't leave me here!"

Though her eyes still glittered black, Shirai could see a smile on the swordswoman's face. "Why not?"

"What about Aisaka-san," the demon blubbered. "How can I exchange back with her if I'm stuck here?"

"You can't, and that's fine with me," Setsuna remarked. "Sayo-san will keep her new body permanently and you'll haunt these tunnels."

Once more she faced the demon. "And neither Ojou-sama nor I will be troubled by your presence ever again."

"Please!" the demon cried while getting to her knees. "Please take me back with you! Don't leave me here!"

"Then you must swear an oath not to prey upon my friends and fellow classmates."

"Please, anything! I'll do anything!"

Metal rang as Setsuna pulled her blade from its scabbard. "Then swear upon my sword to leave them alone."

"Yes mistress," came a submissive reply. "But I must feed still."

"That is not my concern," Setsuna said in a voice devoid of any emotion. "Now swear or remain here for the rest of eternity."

--

A heavy perfume of burnt hair and scorched flesh mixed with a fine dust as the battle in the tunnel raged on. Even in her current form, Homura was panting for breath while evading another swipe from the beast she found herself in combat with. Sweat poured out, only to turn into steam upon contact with her skin. This novice ministra should have been dead several times over by now, but was obviously too stupid to know it.

Yellow eyes with black slits reflected the sprite's flames as Yuna's lips drew back to bare a pair of fangs. 'A … a vampire,' Homura suddenly realized as another slash from a clawed hand ripped what felt like a chunk of her shoulder loose. The wound instantly cauterized while she shundo'd behind her opponent and kicked. A satisfying grunt of pain was music to the girl's ears as she quickly followed up by grabbing Yuna's neck and twisting until it snapped. Even as the other girl slumped in her arms, Homura knew she couldn't let up; she had to keep hitting in hopes of overloading the vampire's capacity to regenerate.

Holding both sides of her enemy's head, the pyromancer felt the chill as heat was sucked from the air around them and channeled into flames that engulfed the vampire as Homura shouted "Regenerate this!"

Releasing the other girl, Homura stepped back and watched as skin charred and blackened. However, instead of reducing to cinders, the vampire's recovery kept pace. "No!" the sprite screamed as gouts of fire exploded from her fists, striking the prone figure again and again. "Die damn you! Die!"

Before she could enjoy the sight of her foe reduced to ashes, a blast of energy slammed Homura into the wall. Dimly the pyromancer heard bells jingling as she slid into unconsciousness.

--

Asuna glanced over at Yuna and then back at the helpless Homura. Seething with rage, she thought of summoning her blade and hacking the ministra into bits so tiny, no one would think of resurrecting the bloodthirsty bitch. 'And then you'd be no better than her,' a mental voice quietly said.

Placing her pactio card to her forehead, Asuna called 'Negi!' Again she called out his name before remembering his magic had been sealed. As gently as she could, Asuna picked up her classmate. Sparing one final glance at their fallen enemy, and wishing she had the time to smash every bone in that disgusting vermin's body, Asuna raced back to where she left Negi and Kimiaki-san.

She reached Negi and was surprised to find Setsuna, Chamo and Himeiko there too. "Oh God! Yuna-san!" the boy cried as his newest partner was laid on the ground. "This is all my fault!" he sobbed.

"Get a grip Negi!" Asuna shouted. "We've got to help her!"

"Setsuna-san." She whirled on the swordswoman. "Can you contact Konoka with your card and have her teleport here?"

"We're outside of the card's range," Negi said as he wiped a sleeve across his face. "We'd be better off trying to call the school authorities, but do any of us know where we are?"

"About 5 kilometers south by southwest of the cemetery," Setsuna announced as she held up Kimiaki-san's cell phone. "I was able to use the GPS to locate Konoka's phone and teleport here."

"Mistress," Himeiko said to the swordswoman. "I might be able to help."

As one, the group turned towards the floating spirit. "By merging with her, I can stabilize her condition until other assistance arrives."

"Do it then," Negi ordered. "Setsuna-san, contact the headmaster."

"So you really are wizards," Shirai finally said. "Does that mean Konoka-san is too?"

"Yes Kimiaki-san," the young boy answered. "Both she and I are wizards."

"What happens to me now?"

"When non-magic people discover our existence, we normally cast a spell to wipe those memories away," Negi explained.

"Damn it bozu," Asuna swore as she angrily grabbed the boy's arm, "concentrate on Yuna-san."

Negi winced in pain at her grip and then shouted "Asuna!"

She released her hold and watched in amazement as one of the black pledge strings faded from his forearm. "What happened?"

"You nullified part of the spell on me," Negi answered. "Can you do it again?"

"I'm not sure," she shot back in confusion. "I don't know how I did it."

"Then what good are you Kagurazaka-san?"

Heads turned as Zazie approached. "Does not the blood of the Teotanasians run in your veins? Are you not heir to the greatest power in all of the Mundus Magicus?"

Mouths fell open as the normally calm and collected girl quivered with suppressed rage. "And you," the white-haired teen stared at Negi, "dared think yourself worthy to follow in the Thousand Master's footsteps and become a Magister Mage. Yuna will die while you two uselessly dither!"

"Genetic memory," Negi exclaimed and then turned to a thoroughly puzzled Asuna. "Do you remember what Nodoka's diary revealed about your family?"

"The Teotanasians possess genetic memory," he excitedly explained. "If you can tap into that, you could learn how to use your magic cancel."

Asuna felt the cold hand of fear clench around her guts and twist. During their trip to the Mundus Magicus, it was revealed that she was descended from the Sorceress who saved the world from the Life Giver centuries ago. And that she was bred to be a vessel for that awful spirit. If she opened herself to those memories, would she not open herself to that other as well? "I don't know about this."

"Please Asuna," her partner begged. "Please do it for Yuna-san."

"I'll … I'll try," she finally relented.

"Kagurazaka-san," Zazie called. "Face your heritage without fear, without reservation. Yuna doesn't need you to try, she needs you to succeed."

--

Using meditation techniques Setsuna had taught her, Asuna emptied her mind and entered into a trance. Lazily she drifted along as if borne by a gentle current, halting when the image of a four year old girl appeared before her. Instantly she recognized the younger version of herself. "Your Majesty," she greeted the Princess Asuna.

"What reason brings you here?" the other Asuna asked.

"My friend is dying," she explained. "I might be able to save her if I can learn how to use the magic cancel at will."

"You would save a rival for your partner's affection?"

"I would save my friend," Asuna asserted. "Please help me or, if you're unwilling, point me towards one who can."

"I never had the opportunity to master that art myself," the princess admitted. "However, I know of one who had."

"Come with me," the child beckoned as she held out a hand. Asuna took hold and the two found themselves in a sea of bubbles.

"Where are we?"

"What you perceive as bubbles are memories of our ancestors," the princess answered. "We are searching for the greatest magic canceller of the Teotanasians."

"There," the child said and pulled Asuna into a bubble.

The morning sun climbed towards noon, lighting most of the grass-covered courtyard. Asuna looked out through eyes belonging to a girl scarcely larger than Evangeline had been. After pushing back a stray lock of silver-colored hair, she continued her sword practice. Though dressed in full armor, the girl moved through the katas with a fluid grace as if unaffected by the weight. 'Who is this?'

'These are the memories of Arjuent Wespatatia Teotanasia,' the princess answered.

Arjuent halted her practice as a tall man wearing a robe and scanning an open scroll entered the yard from the still shadowed, southern end. Lips pulled back into a slight smile as the swordswoman leapt into the air and somersaulted, landing in a crouch with her arm pulled back, the blade held ready for a deadly thrust. Her heart beat rapidly as she waited, but heard no word from the newcomer. Looking up, the warrior noted the man's nose was still glued to the scroll. Snorting in disgust, Arjuent stood.

"Master Berild," she called out and the man looked up, surprise plastered across his scholarly features.

"Your Highness," he replied.

"What do you think of my progress with the blade?"

His look was all the answer she needed. "You seem to be progressing well," Berild lied. Suddenly his face brightened as he explained, "I received a new scroll."

Asuna could feel the girl's jaw tighten as teeth ground together in frustration. "How wonderful," Arjuent lied in return. "You must tell me more about it during our afternoon lessons."

Grass at the south end folded flat as if bent by a strong gust of wind. Dark swirls appeared within the shadows. "Behind you Berild!" the swordswoman shouted in warning. "Storm daemons!"

The world shifted as the warrior used an instant movement to get between the summoned creatures and the reader. Dropping to a knee, Arjuent deflected a sagitta barrage with her sword. Three vaguely man-like creatures, made out of what appeared to be dark clouds, stepped into the sunlight. With a shout, Arjuent was among them hewing left and right. Her blade swung through the daemons as if she were attacking a fog bank.

Asuna noted that each of the cloud beings was surrounded by a web of flashing lights. Upon closer examination, she could tell that the light circulated along the webbing like pulses of electricity through a relay. 'If I can disrupt the path,' she reasoned, 'that would stop the flow, like throwing a switch.'

'It couldn't be that easy,' she thought. Arjuent reached out with her mind and tugged at one of the web's strands, pulling and twisting until it snapped. The creature dissipated like smoke as the light winked out. Again she tugged and another creature vanished in response. The third one raised a hand and lightning crackled. Arjuent laughed as the energy popped and fizzled away. Forward she thrust her thought like a sword, severing the web and dispelling the summoned daemon.

Berild stared at her, his expression an odd mixture of apprehension and wonder. "Your Highness," he said, "Are you …?"

"I never felt better Master Berild," she answered as the sound of booted feet echoed behind her. Spinning about, Arjuent saw a dozen guards spill into the courtyard. They were led by a bearded fellow Asuna took an instant dislike to.

"Your Highness," the bearded man exclaimed, "we heard you shout."

"You are late Lord Dardanus," Arjuent remarked with more than a touch of disdain in her voice. "I would think my guardian should be more attentive in his duties."

'Who is that man?' Asuna asked.

'Lord Dardanus Enteofushia,' Princess Asuna answered. 'He was appointed regent when the previous queen died.'

'Why? Was Arjuent too young for the throne?'

'No,' the princess replied. 'Her talent for magic cancelling was so strong, she couldn't cast even the simplest spell. And the law stated that only a mage could rule Ostia.'

'What a stupid law,' Asuna exclaimed.

'Agreed, but it was the law none the less,' the princess told her. 'Arjuent never became queen because of it and the Enteofushians were established as the true rulers of the kingdom during her lifetime.'

"Come Master Berild," the silver-haired girl said as she linked her arm through his. "You must tell me more about your new scroll."

'Have you learned what you needed to?' her younger self asked.

'I think so,' Asuna replied.

'Then let us return to your friend.'

--

Like a child huddled under a blanket, cowering in fear of monsters that lurked in the closet, Yuna curled into a tight, little ball and shuddered. Only the monster she feared was herself. It had started the night of the school-wide blackout the previous year. She had dreamt that Mackie had bit her, Akira and Ako and the four of them had tried to hurt Negi-kun.

A few months later she had pushed a man from the top of a four-story building. True he was trying to murder Ayaka-san, but Yuna had killed him. Nightmares of pushing others from that rooftop haunted her sleep for months afterwards. And the teen couldn't shake the feeling that she had done worse during their adventures in the Magic World.

Others had noted a change in her too. After the events at Pinhe Lake, she overheard Mackie talking to Lynn and Aisha about how oddly she had acted. "It was like Yuna was a different person," the gymnast confided. "I thought she was going to kill that man who hurt her." Even a complete stranger whom she had bumped into on the street had run from her in terror.

And now with Negi-kun in danger, Yuna had felt a savage presence within her struggle to claw its way out. In desperation she had unleashed it and felt a thrill while trying to rend that other girl to bloody pieces. Pain was brushed away just to get one more blow in, one more chance to kill.

"What have I done?" she sobbed.

"Akashi Yuna," a strange voice called out.

Yuna glanced up to find a stern-looking woman with short, brown hair standing over her. "Who are you?"

"You may call me Himeiko," the woman answered. "You have been hurt Akashi-san. Badly enough that you may die."

"Then let me die," Yuna groaned as she turned away. "I don't want to be a monster."

"You wished to make a pactio," Himeiko reminded her. "Now you would desert your partner?"

"Negi-kun doesn't need me," she countered. "There are lots of girls who want to help him."

"But they weren't around to save him tonight," the woman replied. "And what of your other friends? Battle is coming to Mahora. Who will be there to help them when they need it?"

Visions of demons roaming the campus as the school buildings burned filled her mind. Friends, classmates and teachers were indiscriminately slaughtered while those who butchered them laughed. A tear-streaked face regarded Himeiko. "I can't let that happen."

"Then you must live." Yuna wept as arms enfolded her. "Let me help you."

"Listen," Himeiko said. Negi's voice sounded faint as if the boy was a great distance away.

"**Utilis phasmatis audite meus placitum. Ego dico super vestri ops vigoratus. Procul meus tactus, planto universus unus pro mihi a capite ad calcem.**"

A tingling sensation swept over her body and then slowly faded away. Yuna sat up and yawned while stretching her arms high above her head. In shock, she realized the entire group was gathered about her. "Um hi guys. What'd I miss?"

--

Having reached his apartment, Shirai fell onto the couch, grateful to be alive. Springfield-san had offered to erase memories of the last day, but the young man had begged to keep them. "If you make me forget everything," he had argued, "then you make it easier for something like this to happen again." Everyone could agree on that.

Enemies had tried to get at Konoka through him. Shirai could accept the idea of the danger to himself, not without any qualms mind you, but putting Konoka at risk wasn't acceptable. He would have to break off their relationship and the thought of never seeing her again hurt.

Opening his cell phone, Shirai dialed a number he knew by heart. A familiar voice answered. "Hello grandfather, is grandmother in?"

"No," Soemu answered. "She's at the community center. They have a ten year old Go prodigy teaching the game tonight. What's up?"

"I'm going to break up with Konoka-san," he answered.

"But why grandson?" the old man asked. "She seems like such a delightful girl."

"There's lots of reason," Shirai told him. "Mahora is a distance away and she is still a high school student."

"I suppose you know what you're doing," his grandfather responded.

"I'm reminded of those old stories," Soemu continued with chuckle. "You know, where a man marries a beautiful woman and discovers that she's really a snake, or a fox, or a witch."

"He leaves her of course, thinking it for the best, only to find out that the woman loved him and hid the truth about herself because she knew he'd reject her. Sadly the man goes on with his life, but always pinning for the happiness he threw away."

"But what if the man knows that the woman is in danger if they stay together?" Shirai asked.

"Then the man would have to ask if she would be in the same danger if they did not," his grandfather answered. "Perhaps having the support of one she loves and trusts would make the difference."

An awkward silence followed until Soemu spoke again. "I shouldn't worry; these are only stories after all."

"Grandfather … I …"

"I have faith in you grandson," the old man gently declared. "Whatever you choose, I believe it will be the right decision."

"Goodnight grandfather."

"Goodnight grandson."

--

**Mahora, Japan**

As they walked from the train station to the dormitory, Zazie breathed a prayer of thanks for their safe return. After the massacre in Kosovo, she had thought to never have a friend again. This evening, the two classmates who had reached out to her were endangered. What would she have done if either had been lost? But by the grace of heaven, they had all survived, survived and grown stronger in the process. Recalling first impressions of her classmates, the refugee from a war torn land would never have thought it possible.

'They've changed,' Zazie thought. 'But then, so have I.'

Yuna walked alongside her, chatting all the while. If nothing else, that was a sure sign of the girl's complete recovery after being at death's door. The ghost, demon, whatever was still inside her, but Himeiko-san seemed to be honoring her vow.

"Lilim, due to their natures, must be around others," Setsuna had explained. "By threatening to strand her in the tunnels, I was able to extract an oath of obedience from the demon."

"Where did you learn all this?" Asuna had asked.

"Back in Kyoto," the swordswoman answered. "When I explained the situation here to Aoyama-sama, she instructed me on a lilim's weaknesses."

"Did she also teach you the zanmaken ni no tachi?" Negi had asked.

"Um, actually I learned it from Rakan-san," Setsuna admitted as a light red colored the girl's cheeks. "But the Soke helped me to perfect the technique in order to better protect Kono-chan, er Ojou-sama."

"It's too bad we didn't capture those two," Asuna had remarked. Though she hadn't told the others, Zazie had released Shirabe after the ministra confessed to needing Konoka's help to restore Shiori's spirit to the elfin girl's body. While the acrobat didn't want to withhold such valuable information, blurting it out didn't strike her as the wisest course of action.

When they reached the three buildings comprising the high school dormitory, Negi called Yuna to the side. He handed her a card that she quickly pocketed. Then to everyone else's surprise, the newly minted ministra kissed her partner full on the mouth.

"That's from both of us," Yuna told him. The dark-haired girl then grinned and asked "Do you want to give them a squeeze?"

Several mouths fell open as Negi sputtered.

"I'm just messing with you," Yuna said as she ruffled his hair. "Trying would earn you another poke in the nose."

After Negi, Chamo and Himeiko departed, the four girls entered the lobby. "You shouldn't tease Negi-san like that," Zazie said.

"Oh come on," Yuna laughed in response. "Where's the harm."

"I suppose you're right," Zazie conceded as her lips formed an impish grin. "Then this should be okay too."

Grabbing the surprised girl's head, she pressed her lips against Yuna's in a kiss every bit as drawn out as the one Negi received. They finally broke apart as another voice squealed "Ooh perfect."

A glance revealed that Haruna was waving a cell phone about. "I got it," the class gossip gloated. "I've got to show this to the others."

"Wait a minute Haruna-san!" Yuna shouted and then set off in pursuit of the fleeing mangaka. An amazed Asuna and Setsuna watched as Zazie collapsed to the floor, laughing so hard it brought tears to her eyes.

--

**A/N: Chapter title and heading are from the song "Flatline" by Element Eighty.**

**Negi's healing spell translates as follows:**

**Utilis phasmatis audite meus placitum **- Beneficial spirits hear my plea

**Ego dico super vestri ops vigoratus **- I call upon your power to heal

**Procul meus tactus, planto universus unus pro mihi **- At my touch, make whole the one before me

**A capite ad calcem - **from head to heel

**Negi's restriction spell is from chapter 7 of the manga and was translated as – **with the three black pledge strings, place a restriction on myself for three days

**Woodwoses are another name for the wild men who haunt woodlands. In the manga, Shirabe is referred to as a wood sprite but her ultimate form is a type of dragon, so I thought I'd combine the two into a hybrid race. On the other hand, I present Zazie Rainyday's heritage as half human/half dragon. For a different view of our enigmatic acrobat, check out Animekitty2's "A Rainyday Tale."**

**The idea of dragons, and other fantastic creatures, making and accepting challenges is a fairly old one. The riddle game between Bilbo and Smaug in "The Hobbit" is a more recent example of this. Yuna's "Rock, Paper, Scissors" challenge a few chapters back is another. **


	38. Chapter 38

**A/N: After the previous chapter took so long, I'm amazed by how quickly this one was to write. Then again, I had been still undecided about Yuna's pactio but my ideas for Sayo had been firm ever since the chapter on the barghest. Yes Makuhari-Fan01, I decided to go with the more humorous option. Thanks again for all of the help. Looks like we're both winding down around the same time kimosabe. Oh, and I apologize Tiki, but I couldn't ignore everybody else.**

**Akamatsu-san owns Negima and its characters. Stephen Dilane was a name given by Makuhari-Fan01 for the magus/headmaster of Meldiana. Phillip Markham is my creation. Others OCs shall remain nameless to protect the innocent.**

**In my stories, I followed the original Del Rey format of having Ku Fei speak in less than grammatically correct English. This was to get across the idea of her imperfect command of other languages, kind of like me trying to speak German. In fact, her English is better than my German. However, I believe she could express herself well in Chinese.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words"**, **'thoughts'**, **_'reading'_, - telepathy- and **"spells" **

**--**

**For the sins of your fathers you, though guiltless, must suffer – **Horace

**Sins of the Father**

**Student Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

In disgust, Asakura slammed the last kitchen drawer shut. Her new digital camera was missing. Although it was last year's model, it had cost more than 200,000 Yen, a price she couldn't casually ignore like some of her classmates. Having searched everywhere else for it, the paparazzi got on her knees and reluctantly opened the cabinet under the sink.

Neatly ordered rows of earth-friendly cleaning supplies issued to the dormitory residents lined the front of the shelf. Pulling containers, reusable towels and sponges out revealed a second row of water bottles. Curious, the reporter grabbed a bottle and carefully examined it. While the contents looks like normal water, it gave off a flower-like aroma and had a slightly sweet taste not unlike rice wine.

'Don't tell me Yue has a secret stash of amazake?' the red-head thought and then noticed English words, carefully written in her roommate's precise hand, on the label. '_And love is fire. And when I say at need I love thee ... mark! ... I love thee---in thy sight I stand transfigured_' she read as her grin faded into a puzzled frown.

Leaving the kitchen, she marched directly to the little doll seated on the couch and sat down next to it. "Okay, spill!" Asakura demanded as she pulled Chachazero's string. "What is this stuff?"

"What's … it … worth … to … you?" the doll choppily replied.

Quickly the reporter invoked her pactio and felt a rush as Negi's power poured in. "That depends," she replied while pulling the string again. "What do you want in return?"

"Well, you can start by bringing me the block of kitchen knives," Chachazero started but was swiftly cut off.

"Not a chance," the reported said, as training sessions at Evangeline's resort leapt to mind. "Try again."

"How about you read me some stories from my favorite book then?" the doll suggested next.

'That doesn't seem so bad,' she thought and then said aloud. "Deal. So spill."

"Those bottles are the results of Ayase-san's research," Chachazero answered.

"And that research was on?"

"Love potions."

"Really?" she said slowly as gears began to grind away. Her missing camera was temporarily forgotten as the girl considered how to turn this to her advantage. An actual love potion would be worth a lot to the right person, and if money was involved …

"Okay, how does this work?" she asked as a greedy light sparkled in her eyes.

"About your end of the deal?" the doll asked in return.

"What story book did you have in mind?"

"You'll find it in the bag at the end of the sofa."

Asakura found the bag and pulled a book entitled _'Revolting Rhymes'_ from it. "Don't' tell me that Evangeline–san read to you?"

"No," Chachazero answered. "My little sister did."

--

Coming in after a marathon session with the Library Explorer's Club, Yue was looking forward to putting her tired feet up for a while before hitting the books. Of course she intended to study magic texts downloaded from Ariadne's vast library courtesy of her artifact. Mundane school work could wait until the morning train ride. The last thing she expected upon walking into her room was to find Chachazero seated on Asakura's lap while the teen read aloud nursery rhymes to the murderous doll.

"_Oh, what a tale of crime on crime! Let's check it for a second time_

_Crime One, the prosecution's case: she breaks and enters someone's place_

_Crime Two, the prosecutor notes: she steals a bowl of porridge oats_

_Crime Three: She breaks a precious chair belonging to the Baby Bear._

_Crime Four: She smears each spotless sheet with filthy messes from her feet._"

"What are you reading," Yue asked.

"Just a little something Chachazero-san brought with her," the red-head explained without glancing up from the book. "Apparently she hasn't been getting her nightly bedtime story."

A single arched eyebrow was the only break in Yue's normal deadpan expression. Asakura continued reciting while she listened.

"_A judge would say without a blink, 'Ten years hard labour in the clink!'_

_But in the book, as you will see, the little beast gets off scot-free, _

_While tiny children near and far shout, 'Goody-good! Hooray! Hurrah!'_

_'Poor darling Goldilocks!' they say, 'Thank goodness that she got away!'_

_Myself, I think I'd rather send Young Goldie to a sticky end._

_'Oh daddy!' cried the Baby Bear, 'My porridge gone! It isn't fair!'_

_'Then go upstairs,' the Big Bear said, 'Your porridge is upon the bed._

_'But as it's inside mademoiselle, you'll have to eat her up as well'._"

Asakura finished with reading and then asked, "What story would you like your oneesan to read next?"

"I want to hear the one about little red riding hood and the biiig, baaad wolf," Chachazero gleefully answered.

"You've heard that one twice already," the reporter responded.

"But it's my favorite," the doll remarked in a plaintive, little girl whine.

Yue said not a word as she turned and marched straight for the door.

"Where you going Yuetchi?" her roommate asked.

"Over to Nodoka's room," she replied. "I need finish my math assignment."

--

**Tatsumiya Temple, Mahora Japan**

Crouching on a limb, Setsuna gazed at the Tatsumiya Shrine. Somewhere inside the compound, Konoka prepared for an exorcism. The ritual could be grueling, lasting for hours, days, even weeks. She didn't want to distract the Ojou-sama during such a critical time, so the shinmei-ryu perched in a tree and prepared to stand watch over her charge from a distance.

"Why are you doing this mistress?" the misty figure floating next to her asked. "Do you like to suffer?"

"Quiet," the swordswoman commanded. "Why are you here anyways? Shouldn't you be with Ishikawa-san?"

"But you interest me mistress," Lili answered. "I've never observed a martyr up close before."

"I'm no martyr," Setsuna calmly denied.

"Then why don't you admit to your precious Ojou-sama how you feel about her?" the lilim asked. The demon waited a moment, but since Setsuna declined to answer, she continued. "You do know that she wants you too?"

Keeping as silent as a stone carving, the swordswoman continued to watch but her heart began to beat faster. "She was thinking about you," the succubus explained, "even as we …"

A hiss echoed among the branches as the nodachi was drawn from its scabbard. Starlight glittered off its polished surface as the sword was thrust under the spirit's chin. "Enough," Setsuna said.

"Yes mistress." Once the blade was sheathed, Lili spoke again. "We're not so different you and I."

"We are nothing alike," Setsuna responded.

"Certainly we are," her unwanted companion maintained. "Why else do you seek out humans?"

An angry flush rose in the teen's face as she glared at the demon. "I did not ask for your company lilim. Why don't you trouble someone else?"

A slight grin played about the creature's mouth. "Is that a command mistress?"

Setsuna was about to answer and then shut her mouth with an audible click. She'd not fall for that trap. Not after extracting a vow from the demon.

"The boy and the girl are both strong in magic and would make worthy mates," the lilim observed. "Which one will you feather your nest with?"

Again Setsuna turned towards her tormentor, tiny veins pulsing upon her white brow. "What I do and who I do it with is no concern of yours," she told the demon.

"I wonder," Lili said. "Karasu Tengu are known for having strong, family ties; flocking together like the birds of this world that share the same name. Are these humans your substitute family? Is that why you're so protective of them?"

Family. She had been about to uselessly order the demon to be silent when that word stopped her. Once the girl had a family, but now she didn't even have any memories of her mother and father. Among the crow demons, her white wings were considered an ill omen. Setsuna would have been slain like all those before her, except her parents decided to take their child away to a safe place. Unfortunately, making that effort cost them their lives.

As an orphan she had been brought to a temple in Kyoto and met a princess near her age who disarmed Setsuna completely with a welcoming smile. They had played together, faced down a fierce beast and nearly died in a swift flowing river. Yet all of the time the little girl lived with the Konoe family, it never felt like her family.

Determined to become strong enough to protect the princess, she went to learn the secrets of Shinmei-ryu. Though the masters treated her well, they were not her family either. Even being reunited with Konoka here at Mahora hadn't brought her closer to having a family. It wasn't until Negi-sensei arrived.

The stubborn boy wouldn't let Setsuna run away after she'd revealed her secret at Kyoto. He forced her to look beyond the illusions she had constructed over the years and called the rules. Forced the swordswoman to see that she could belong somewhere after all hope had been abandoned. Negi, Konoka, Asuna, Evangeline, Nodoka, Chachamaru, Kotaro, Chisame and Chamo… little by little they became her family. Oh they argued, fought and even became jealous, but they were still bound to one another by ties difficult for her to explain. Leaving Konoka might be possible; however, could she leave all of the others as well?

"Yes, they are my family, all of them," Setsuna answered and sniffed back a tear or two that threatened to roll down her cheek. "Thank you for reminding me of that."

Lili gave a baffled look much like the one Asuna had given when she tried to teach her fellow ministra a spell in Sanskrit. For once the demon was at a loss for words. Each wrapped in her own thoughts, both gazed out at the temple grounds as stars twinkled overhead.

--

**Girl's Dormitory, Mahora Japan**

Wearing her normally cheerful smile, Ku Fei walked into the dorm room carrying a bundle of mail tucked under an arm. Her roommate looked up from the couch as the blonde-haired girl pulled out a slender magazine and held it up. "You have a new catalog."

"Is that boy still working in the mail room?" Kaede asked as she reached for the magazine.

"He still there," Ku Fei answered. "I no understand why you not like him. He's cute."

"Let's just say that he has incredibly bad luck," the tall kunochi replied as she flipped through pages with glossy pictures of knives, throwing stars and other weapons. "I'm afraid it might rub off on me if I hang around too much."

"No one's luck can be that bad," the Chinese girl countered as she tore open a thick, yellow envelope.

Recalling the wreckage of the boy's apartment as well as the shambled condition of the antique shop he had worked in, Kaede shuddered before responding with "Don't be too sure of that."

The smile on Ku's face faded as she read the letter. Concerned, Kaede asked if there was anything wrong.

"My great-aunt, Ping, has been ill for months," the martial artist gravely answered. "My cousin say she not expected to live for much longer."

"You have a great-aunt named Ping?" the squinty-eyed girl asked. "I thought that was a boy's name."

"Her name Ping-On," Ku replied as if that made everything clear. "She was a strong fighter. I always looked up to her."

The blonde student sat on the other cushion and stared into space for a moment. "She not always strong," Ku reminisced. "When she my age, she weak. Once my aunt got so scared that she vowed to get strong enough to protect her family."

"I don't think you ever mentioned that before," Kaede said, knowing full well what the result would be.

True to course, the girl's smile reappeared as she asked, "Would you like to hear story?"

Setting the catalog aside, Kaede nodded.

"As a young man, my great-grandfather moved to Shanghai to make his fortune," Ku Fei related. "Ku Man-chai had four daughters: Dak-Yee, Chiu-Yee, Oi-Yee and Ping-On; but only one son. Just before my grandfather was born, the Imperial Japanese Army invaded China …"

--

**Shanghai, China**

Trying not to make any noise, hands cautiously slid back a sheet of corrugated tin from atop the basement stairs of this onetime home of a prosperous merchant. A teenage girl replaced the cover and carefully picked her way past shattered bricks and twisted pieces of metal to the sounds of sporadic gunfire as armies clashed in the night. Her city, the only home she had known for 14 years was being devoured by war. Not so long ago this had been a neighborhood of Shanghai's emerging middle class. Only a few months past she had accompanied her father on a business trip to a client's home among these fine houses. Although he hadn't said anything, she knew her father was showing her off in hopes of attracting a potential suitor. Since then, soldiers had come from across the sea, bringing death to the tramp of hobnailed boots.

Finding a corner of the crumbled wall still standing, she lifted the skirt of her baggy qipao and squatted down. Ping-On was the fourth daughter of Ku Man-Chai, a successful businessman. Her father had come to Shanghai as a teenage boy and built a business hauling freight from the busy port to cities throughout China. When the Japanese fleet appeared off the coast, Man-Chai had wisely sent his trucks and most of his family west to Chongqing where the Nationalist government relocated its capital.

Pregnant, her father's youngest wife had remained behind with Ping-On to care for her. Now that the much hoped for son had been born, Man-Chai was preparing for their departure. Having left the three of them in a hiding place, her father had gone into the city to destroy his warehouse and any equipment that couldn't be moved, denying them to the invading devils.

Being a fourth daughter was an unenviable position, however what made it worse was that she failed to stand out in anyway. She wasn't smart like her sister Dak-Yee, or pretty like Chiu-Yee. Even Oi-Yee, who was always ill, received more attention. With a heavy heart, the young girl realized her new brother would soon eclipse them all. If only there was some way to win her father's approval.

Lost in thought, Ping-On was surprised by a diesel engine's growl and the crunching of brick and cement as heavy tires ran over them. Crouching low to the ground, the girl peered around the wall and watched as an olive drab painted truck stopped and a score of men wearing khaki-colored uniforms jumped out of the canvas covered back end. Electric torches flicked on as the soldiers spread out. Beams of light swept the ground as images of capture paralyzed the teen. Stories of torture, rape and murder by the invaders abounded. No mercy should be expected by those who fell into enemy hands.

'What if they find the others?' the thought suddenly came. 'What should I do?'

A metallic taste filled Ping-On's mouth, but fear kept her from spitting it out. 'What should I do?'

As swiftly as she dared, the teen fled back to the basement. Her father's youngest wife, feeding the newborn, glanced up as Ping-On slid the thin sheet of tin back into place and then shivered as the girl whispered "Soldiers." Quickly she snuffed out the candle and they waited in darkness as voices, Japanese voices, grew louder. Though the teen had just relieved herself, she felt her bladder spasm as the piece of roofing rattled and was then forcefully shoved aside.

A beam of light shone down, exposing them to a soldier's gaze. The Japanese devil wore a cap instead of a helmet like the others, and his uniform was colored green. In his hand was a pistol. Suicidal though it was, Ping-On prepared to spring upon him. If the soldier shot her, it might give her stepmother and brother time to flee, maybe to find another way out of the ruined basement.

The stranger stared at them a moment and then lowered his weapon. He stepped back and moved the cover back into place. Her heart was still racing as a harsh sounding voice shouted words she didn't understand. Could this man mean to leave them alone? Silently, Ping-On prayed to the family's ancestral guardians. "Please let us come safely to Chongqing," she pleaded. 'If you do I'll …'

Ping-On stopped and then asked herself, 'What will I do?' She was a girl and girl's depended upon men. 'No, not all,' the teen thought as she remembered tales of warrior maidens from China's ancient past, women who would not let being women limit them in any way. 'If only I could be like them.'

It was unlikely Ping-On would ever scale a mountain to learn from mystic hermits who dwelt on its snow-clad peak, but her grandfather taught martial arts in Mianyang. And Mianyang was a day's journey from Chongqing. The girl was confident she could convince her father to let her visit, however convincing her grandfather to accept her as a student might be more difficult. 'Oh reverend ancestors continue to smile upon me for just a little while longer and I will go to Mianyang,' she promised. 'I will learn what is necessary to protect our family.'

--

**Tatsumiya Temple, Mahora Japan**

'_Nothing here' I called out to the others and the stood guard over the basement while they continued to search for escaping Chinese soldiers. I feared the baby would cry out at any moment; however the two girls were able to keep him quiet. As angry as the other men were at our unseen enemy, I knew what the result would be if those civilians had been discovered. To the north, we heard a great explosion and the squad leader called everyone to the truck. I was never so grateful to hear a blast as I was then. _

Unshed tears burned her eyes as Sayo gently closed her father's diary.

"You see," Konoka told her. "Your father was capable of mercy too."

"But how can we convince the onryo of that?" she asked.

"I don't know," the healer answered. "But we need to find a way."

"If only we knew who those girls were," Sayo wistfully remarked.

"It's time we got started," Mana announced.

Sayo picked up her father's diary and photograph and let the other girls straighten the temple maidens' robes she wore. Without further word, the trio stepped out of the temple. Two short, hooded figures awaited them outside. Each one carried a pole that a lit lantern dangled from. Mana stepped between the twin escorts and motioned for them to follow. Like a troop of silent wraiths, they moved towards the old clock tower and Tsuwabuki's garden.

They had only travelled a few hundred meters when two more robed figures with hoods pulled over their heads wordlessly took the lanterns and continued on. Other pairs joined them at points along the way, swelling their number to over two dozen by the time the group turned down the short lane leading to the garden. In front of the locked gate stood another trio, but these people wore normal street clothes.

A blonde-haired woman, flanked by two, black-suited men, barred the path. "Ojou-sama," Mahora's Chief of Operations called out. "I must ask you to cease immediately. This exorcism endangers not only yourself, but potentially many others."

"Kuzonoha-san," Konoka replied in voice that echoed across lane, "I have no wish to see others harmed, however we have an obligation to help these spirits, brought here from a foreign land, to move on to the next world."

"Unless my grandfather has ordered you to stop us," the girl continued, "I must ask you to step aside and let us pass."

"At least send these others away," Toko pleaded. "I can't guarantee their safety."

One of the lantern bearers pulled her hood back, exposing a mass of blonde hair. Although Sayo had guessed her silent companions' identity, she was still surprised to see the class rep's face. "The class took a vote," Ayaka said, "and 1A decided to support our fellow classmate Aisaka-san."

"I expected better of you Yukihiro-san," the woman remarked in a disappointed tone. "I have no choice but to inform the school administration of your egregious lack of responsibility."

"But the headmaster is already aware of what we decided," the class president replied and then caught them off guard by switching to English. "Isn't that right sensei?

If Sayo had been surprised by Ayaka's appearance, she was downright amazed when Markham-sensei pulled his hood off.

"She's correct Kuzonoha-san," the American said. "We submitted a class activity form this afternoon and the headmaster signed it."

As second-in-command to the headmaster, Kuzonoha-san wasn't used to being balked. Sayo noticed that several veins stood out on the woman's forehead as various responses were considered and discarded.

"I seem to have been outmaneuvered," Toko admitted. "Very well then, unlock the gate Kataragi-san."

The bearded security agent stiffened at mention of his name and then swiftly complied as his superior had ordered. Her classmates clustered about the opening as first Konoka, then Mana and finally herself stepped into the garden.

--

**Headmaster's Office, Mahora Japan**

Following his morning ritual, Konoemon sat down and booted up the computer in his office. In an age when information travelled at speeds rivaling a shundo, the headmaster could ill afford not to avail himself to every tool. As the machine proceeded through an orderly sequence he turned his attention to the pile of folders on his desk.

Glancing up a few minutes later, the headmaster noticed an alert flashing across the monitor. Clicking on the icon brought him to a screen displaying several emails filtered out by network security for special handling. At the top of the list was an email sent anonymously to the school newspaper with a subject line that read 'Inappropriate Relations.' Intrigued, he scanned the message for viruses and finding none opened it. The body was blank but a picture file had been attached. Gazing at the photograph brought a surprised "Hm, hm."

--

**Tsuwabuki's Garden, Mahora Japan**

Memories of her last time in the garden caused the now living teen to shiver. With mounting apprehension Sayo scanned beneath the stand of oleanders, but found no eyes glaring back at her this time. Konoka and Mana took positions to either side as all three faced the stalks that towered over their heads.

"Call them Sayo-san," Konoka told her.

During the time they were preparing for this moment, she had tried to think out the words to say. However, nothing struck the exorcist as right. Now she was out of time. Sayo took a deep breath and then called out "Spirits of this garden, hear me. You were brought across the sea to this holy place by my father, Aisaka Haru."

Slender stalks swayed back in forth though no wind blew.

"Your journey to the next world was interrupted."

Faintly at first, the sounds of gunfire filled the air.

"We have come here to offer our assistance."

Screams of the dying came next, interspaced with more gunfire.

"Spirits, show yourselves to us."

The shrubs waved as shadows stepped from between them. A dozen, no two dozen, no even more materialized. The other noises subsided as a low murmur rose from the onryo. "Murderers," their voices said. "Children of murders, we shall have your blood."

As one, the massed spirits surged forward and then halted at the cocking of twin pistols. "You would do well to stay back from my friends," Mana told them as circles of mystic symbols glowed about her guns. "You'll take no blood this day."

"Why have you summoned us daughter of our slayer?" the angry ghosts demanded.

For a moment, Sayo was speechless. Two balls of bluish-white light materialized on either side of her began to bob up and down. Although the former ghost never knew why they attached themselves to her, the hitodama had been her constant companions for as long as she could recall. A humming noise that sounded like "lee … lee … lee" emitted from the hitodama on to her right. She could almost believe it was trying to say something to her.

"We are here to help you move on to the next world," she answered. "And to retrieve that part of Aisaka Haru's spirit you have so he too may move on."

"If you wish the return of the murderer's soul, you must fight us for it," the onryo replied.

Although she had been a ghost for more than sixty years, Sayo had no idea how to fight one. Besides, the novice exorcist wanted to aid the spirits, not battle them. Desperately, the girl tried to think of another way, only to be distracted as the other hitodama began to hum.

"Choose a champion," an eerily familiar voice suggested.

"I have no desire to fight you," Sayo called out, "You must face my champion."

Turning her back upon the specters, she gazed upon the crowd of her supporters. Based upon all she had observed in the Mundus Magicus and since, several of her classmates could easily disperse the onryo. Yet defeating the ghosts and forcibly sending them on would not free her father. Which one would best demonstrate that not were not cold-blooded killers?

"Ku-san," echoed across the tiny garden plot. "Will you be my champion?"

Quickly stripping off the white robe, the martial artist stepped passed the wrought iron gate. "I am Ku Fei, descendant of Guo Jian, King of Yue," the girl proclaimed in her native tongue. "Whom do I face?"

"No!" the ghosts shrieked as one. "How could you, bearing such a noble linage, ally yourself with those who invaded our land and set all to the torch?"

"Look about you," Ku Fei challenged. "Not one present here participated in such barbarous acts."

"But their fathers and grandfathers did," the spirits shouted back.

"Must we then stand accused for our ancestor's misdeeds?" the little martial artist countered. "Whose guilt do you bear? Who in turn will take the blame for the blood you've shed?"

With a roar, the shadows charged while Ku took a defensive stance. "Stop it!" Sayo screamed, knowing that another battle would serve no purpose. Konoka's chanting carried over the din, causing all to turn towards the healer who glowed with energy.

"If it is a trial without combat you desire," the young mage declared, "then a trial without combat you shall have." Light flashed as the girl brought her hands together.

When the light faded, Sayo found herself seated next to Ku Fei. Both girls were behind a desk and facing a raised podium. One of the ghosts sat at a similar table to their left while everyone else was seated in the back of the room.

"Court is in session," a uniformed Mana announced. Bedlam erupted as everyone started speaking at once, prompting the tall girl to draw both desert eagles. Hammers ominously clicked back, bringing the room to total silence.

"Court is in session," the mercenary repeated. "All rise for the honorable Judge Konoe."

Still puzzled, Sayo watched as the door swung open and Konoka stepped inside. Her classmate, dressed in a black robe, quickly took the seat at the podium and tapped a small hammer three times. "Aisaka Sayo, you are charged with being your father's daughter," the healer asked. "How do you plead?"

"Objection!" Ku thundered as she rose to her feet.

"What is your objection councilor?" Judge Konoe asked.

"Um, nothing really," the girl admitted with a silly grin plastered across her face. "I just always wanted to do that."

"Have a seat councilor," the judge ordered, "and refrain from any similar outbursts."

Sayo's face dropped into cupped hands as her defense council muttered, "I hope I no lose health point for this."

"How does the defendant plead?" Konoka asked again.

"What do you mean?" Sayo replied as she looked back up.

"Are you or are you not the daughter of Aisaka Haru?" her classmate explained.

"Yes," she answered.

"Yes you are, or yes you aren't?" she was asked.

"Yes I am."

"Very well," a serious looking Konoka said. "Since you have admitted to being Aisaka Haru's daughter, you are hereby sentenced to …"

"Objection!" Ku shouted again. "We no examine evidence."

"What is the point of this charade?" the ghost seated at the prosecution's table yelled.

"The point of this charade, um court, is to determine if the defendant, Aisaka Sayo, is guilty of crimes committed by her father," Konoka answered.

"I must inform you that further interruptions will be severely dealt with," the teen judge continued and then gave a meaningful glance in Mana's direction. The gunslinger's returning smile was less than comforting. "Now be seated. Proceed Councilor Ku."

"I call first witness," the defense attorney said. "Markham-sensei, please take the stand."

A surprised murmur broke out that was swiftly gaveled to silence as the American made his way to the witness stand.

"What is your name?"

"It's Phillip," the man answered. "Phillip Edward Markham, Junior."

"Where were you on the night of September 17th?" Ku asked.

"What?"

"The question is irrelevant," the judge announced.

"I withdraw question," Ku hastily responded. "You know history right?"

"Well that depends," the teacher guardedly answered.

"How does history portray the Imperial Japanese Army's actions in China?"

"They were quite bloody by all accounts," Phillip answered. "After capturing the capitol, Nanking, John Rabe and other westerners who remained reported that the atrocities committed by the IJA were responsible for civilian deaths in the thousands. Some estimates place the toll at more than 300,000. Frustrated with their Chinese opponents, the Imperial Army eventually adopted a scorched earth policy dubbed the Three Alls: kill all, burn all and loot all. And then there was the infamous Unit 731 that carried out chemical and biological warfare experiments on the conquered populations."

"Devils!" the prosecuting spirit exclaimed. "The death of millions lies heavily upon them all!"

"I remind you that this is a court councilor," Konoka scolded. "Another such outburst and I'll have no choice but to gag you."

"What war crime did Aisaka-san's father commit?"

"He shot a baby after the unit he was with gunned down a group of what turned out to be civilians fleeing the city," Phillip answered.

"Why would he do that?"

"That would be speculation councilor," the judge ruled. "The witness will ignore the question."

"Markham-sensei, you served in war zone did you not?" Ku asked.

After he answered in the affirmative, his student then asked what would happen to an infant orphaned by the fighting. A pained look crossed Phillip's face before he answered. "An infant would be placed in the custody of a civilian group or individual that could provide care."

"So the military would not care for the child?"

For a moment, the man glanced down and took a deep breath. "The military fights wars Miss Ku," he stiffly answered. "They aren't meant for daycare."

"As a matter of personal opinion sensei," Ku Fei replied, "which is more merciful: a quick death or slow starvation?"

"What sort of question is that?" the angry ghost screamed. "Death is death."

"Your honor," Ku responded. "Death may be the final end, but is not desire to avoid additional suffering a consideration?"

"Overruled," Konoka decided. "The witness may answer the question."

Sayo could tell that her teacher was uncomfortable, as if the question touched some secret grief.

"If death is inevitable," Phillip answered, "then a death with as little suffering as possible is the most merciful."

"What is the point of this line of questioning councilor?" Konoka asked.

Ku gave a reassuring grin to Sayo before turning back to the podium. "When faced with unavoidable situation," the Chinese girl answered, "sometimes the taking of another's life can be an act of mercy."

"Killing is merciful?" the ghost scoffed. "What nonsense is this? Only the truly twisted would believe such a thing."

"Show me one merciful act that murderer did," the angry spirit demanded as Sayo clutched her father's diary tighter.

"Have you any questions for the witness?" Konoka asked. Receiving only a derisive snort, she excused her teacher. "Call the next witness."

Sayo stood in response. "Call Aisaka Haru to the stand."

She sat in the witness chair with a bouncing hitodama to either side of her. Holding the diary open on her lap, Sayo carefully read aloud the words her father wrote.

'_The torchlight shone down on two Chinese women hiding in the basement. Though I call them women, they seemed hardly older than my own daughters. The older one held a baby to her bared breast. The thought came to me that I was a hunter who had chanced across a doe nursing a new born fawn; a doe whose eyes pleaded for me to spare their lives. In an instant, I knew what I had to do. Lowering my revolver, I stepped back and then pushed the piece of roofing back over top._

'_Nothing here' I called out to the others and the stood guard over the basement while they continued to search for escaping Chinese soldiers. I feared the baby would cry out at any moment; however the two girls were able to keep him quiet. As angry as the other men were at our unseen enemy, I knew what the result would be if those civilians had been discovered. To the north, we heard a great explosion and the squad leader called everyone to the truck. I was never so grateful to hear a blast as I was then.'_

Somebody coughed, but the room was silent otherwise as she finished reading the passage except for the one hitodama that continued with chanting "lee … lee … lee … zhee … zhee … zhee."

"Lies," the onryo cried out. "All of it lies."

"Lee … lee … lee."

"Monsters like that are incapable of kindness."

"Zhee … zhee … zhee."

"I do not accept this testimony as proof of anything."

"What is lee zhee?" Sayo yelled out in frustration.

"It's a name," came an answer. Glancing back at her classmates, she saw that Hakase-san had lowered her hood. "Li Zhi is a Chinese name," the grade's top student said.

"Who is Li Zhi?" Sayo asked and the hitodama on to her right stopped its humming and floated in place. While the girl wasn't very knowledgeable about magic, even she realized that names had power. Back in the Mundus Magicus, Negi-sensei had been able to stop the Mage of the Beginning because he knew Asuna-san's true name. But what could she do with this knowledge.

Again that voice she couldn't quite identify spoke. "Summon Li Zhi," it urged.

"Li Zhi, I require you to appear as you did when last alive," she commanded.

A tail dropped down from the hitodama and split in half. Two more lines separated to either side, forming something like a child's stick figure picture. The segments swelled, drawing astonished gasps from the onlookers, until it resembled a petite woman.

"Are you Li Zhi?" Konoka asked the new apparition.

"I am," the spirit answered as she bowed to the court.

"Why are you here?"

"I have been waiting for a promise to be kept," Li Zhi answered. "I have been waiting for the return of my daughter Li Xiao to me."

At the mention of that name, the other shades collapsed and vanished. Another hitodama floated above the prosecution's table.

"What happened to the other ghosts?" a perplexed Ku Fei asked.

"There was only one ghost the whole time," Sayo answered. "Li Zhi, Li Xiao, listen to me. This world holds nothing for you here. Let go of your anger and release my father's happiness. Only then can you both hope to attain the Pure Land."

A spark flashed over the tiny hitodama and flew to the one remaining at Sayo's side. A smile was on her face as she said "Aisaka Haru."

A transparent image of her father, dressed in the shore duty uniform of the Imperial Navy, smiled at her in return. "Forgive me," Haru's ghost said. "Forgive me for all the suffering my selfishness brought you."

How she wanted to throw her arms about him, to feel his strong arms hug her back in return, but Sayo simply replied, "I forgive you."

"Now that I am whole, I too must leave," he told her.

"But what of me?" she asked, suddenly afraid. "Is this not the task I had to complete?"

"No beloved daughter," Haru's spirit answered as it too began to fade. "There are many more spirits who need help before you join your mother and I."

"I have a request to ask Aisaka-san," Ku Fei said. "My great-aunt, Ku Ping-On, is dying. Please go to Mianyang China and tell her the story your daughter just tell."

"You have served well as my daughter's champion," Haru replied. "I will be honored to do as you request."

With a heart both happy and sad, Sayo watched as the three ghosts melted away. Konoka's glamour faded too and she stood back in her sister's garden. As the eastern sky glowed with morning's first light, she tried to puzzle out Aisaka Haru's words. Very soon, the borrowed body would be returned to its rightful owner; how then could a ghost help other ghosts?

--

**Mianyang, China**

Wenli rolled off the futon and carefully slid open the bedroom door so as not to disturb her sister. Dressed in pink pajamas with a favored cartoon character's smiling face across the front, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the interior hall's darkness. At eight years of age, the girl was much too old for the nightlight, but her younger sister cried whenever they tried to remove it.

The hour was too early for her to be up, yet the child couldn't sleep. A restlessness she couldn't explain gripped her tightly in its coils. Soundlessly she walked down the hall towards the room where her great-aunt slept. Even at this distance, she could hear the ancient woman's wheeze with every breath drawn.

Her parents said Great-Aunt Ping had once been a mighty warrior who had fought bandits, soldiers and even a demon. Looking at the woman now, she found it hard to believe. Her great-aunt was bed-ridden, unable to perform the slightest task for herself.

A soft light spilled from the open doorway into the invalid's room. Worried that a burglar might have broken into the house, Wenli quietly slipped up and peered inside. Three spheres, glowing blue-white, hovered over her relative. Too stunned to cry out, the girl watched with an open mouth as a similar ball rose out of her aunt's chest and trailed a long tail behind it. As the ball of light floated in space, the tail separated from the woman and was absorbed into it. All four spheres sped out the window, plunging the room back into darkness.

Wenli knelt by where her aunt's body lay and extended her hand over the old woman's face. No air stirred against her palm. The youngster's parents found her still kneeling by the cold body when the dawn finally broke. When writing to the rest of the family, Wenli's father stated that their great-aunt died peacefully in her sleep, smiling at the very end.

--

**Meldiana School of Magic, Wales**

Save for his snowy-white hair and beard, there was little to suggest that Meldiana's Grand Magus was old or frail. Such notions would be swiftly disabused by his unbent back and firm grip. And as many of the students had learned the hard way, he was inhumanly fast, even to those who had mastered instant movement. However, despite the hale and hearty figure he cut, the weight of untold years hung about the mage.

Stephen Dilane was the name he adopted forty-two years ago when he arrived at the school as an applicant for the headmaster's position. It was but one of many names assumed over the years. He did find it ironic that it was shared with an actor who played a mage in a recently released film. But then life was filled with little ironies.

Gazing about his office, the Magus glanced at the various mementoes he had managed to hang on to. Above the mantel, next to an ornate clock, stood a goblet of beaten gold engraved with Latin crosses wreathed by roses. It was a gift given in commemoration of his wedding to Margrethe, the daughter of a wealthy Copenhagen merchant. Together they had built a trading house that influenced Europe and the world to this day.

A glass case next to the curtained window held a lace fan that rested next to a banner with the phrase 'Cum Deo Pro Patria et Libertate' stitched across it. Reminders of his years playing a counterfeit count and delighting Parisian aristocrats, as well as the time spent as servant to a rebel prince who sought to unclench the Habsburg fist from around his beloved country. And then the mage's gaze flitted to a piece of wood preserved in a Lucite block. A piece of a longboat's gunwale carved with vaguely Celtic designs caused both shame and anger to burn again within his breast.

He didn't even have to close his eyes to see the boat drifting out to sea. Cries of its cargo, infants cruelly torn from their mothers and heaped inside like so much dross, echoed in the man's ears. Like King Herod and the Pharaoh, those in power sought to avoid destiny by destroying a potential threat, even if it meant slaying hundreds of innocents. Though not the author of this atrocity, he had failed to act against it, failed to so much as to utter one word of dissent into a very confused, young man's ear. Smashed by a storm, the wreckage had washed ashore a few days later. The preserved piece served as a reminder of his gravest mistake.

'And am I contemplating another?' the aged mage asked himself.

-They're here,- his ministra's thought came to him.

Not even needing to touch the pactio card held secure within his robes, the Magus replied, 'Bring them in.'

A moment later, Donnet McGuinness led two very special guests into the office. "Eishun Konoe," the woman announced, ignoring the young boy at the Chief of the Kansai Magic Association's side.

Rising to his feet, Stephan Dilane, Grand Magus of Meldiana, greeted the former hero. "Welcome to Meldiana Konoe-sama," he said while bowing. "Please be seated."

"Thank you Dilane-sama," Eishun responded and then indicated the dark-haired boy with him. "This is Takeshi, my sword bearer."

"Be welcome too Takeshi-san."

"Thank you Dilane-dono," the youngster courteously replied.

"Donnet," the magus said, "Please bring some tea for our guests."

Once the woman had left, the stiffness seemed to leave his visitors. "I hadn't realized how big of an impression Negi-san and his class left on your students," Eishun remarked. "I believe this is the first time I've been asked so many questions about somebody not a part of Ala Rubra."

"Including a number of boys asking for his daughter's email address," Takeshi added as an impudent grin spread across the boy's face. "At least a dozen potential Facebook friends were disappointed today."

"Had this school more female students, I don't doubt that Negi-san would be just as popular," Eishun commented. "And have you been keeping count of the number of admirers the 'princess' has?"

"Asuna-san is running at about half of those for your daughter," the boy answered. "That leaves her a few behind the class president and just ahead of a certain nodachi wielding girl."

Eishun responded with a disgusted snort.

'If it's any consolation Eishun-san," the Magus offered, "the attention is much worse in the Mundus Magicus."

"He's right. I wasn't able to pass a news kiosk or HD screen without seeing Negi or one of his charming companions' faces after the festival," the sword bearer commented. "They even sell posters of him in his gladiator guise. I've heard it outsold those for several pop bands."

"Doesn't all the adulation bother you?" Eishun asked. "Certainly you recall what it was like under the spotlight?"

"From what I've seen so far, Negi-san is a very level headed young man," the Magus remarked.

"And like certain people I know," Takeshi observed, "his ministra are more than willing to administer a swift kick if he gets too full of himself."

"The Springfield men I've known do attract those kinds of people," the Magus said with a sly smile on his lips.

"And lucky for them," the youngster laughed and then gave a bittersweet smile. "They need that counterbalance in order to keep a proper perspective on things."

"Not to interrupt such friendly banter," Eishun interjected, "but have you had a chance to speak with Bentham-san?"

"Yes and though several areas of his operation make me uneasy," he answered, "he's done nothing I can punish him for."

"What about Anna?" The grin was gone from Takeshi's face.

"What don't you drop the illusion then Nagi?" the Magus asked in return.

The sword bearer vanished as the Thousand Master stood in his place. "You know what happened to her don't you?" It was less a question and more of an accusation.

"We all lost a loved one that night," the mage sadly commented. "You a wife, Negi a mother, and I … I lost my daughter Gwyneth. Can you not let them rest in peace?"

"No! I spent the last ten years believing Anna died giving birth to our son," Nagi told him. "I have to know the truth."

The door opened as Donnet McGuinness pushed a laden tea cart into the office. If the woman had been surprised by Nagi Springfield's presence, she betrayed no hint of it as she poured and served each man who politely sipped from his cup in return. "If there is nothing else sir, I'll excuse myself."

"Please stay Donnet," the Magus said to her. "This concerns you as well."

Eyes, cold and harsh as a blizzard, bore into the Thousand Master who stood unflinching before them. "Anna Adenauer is dead," the Magus said. "You must accept this."

"I can't" the younger man replied just as forcefully.

"Then I guess there is no choice," the old wizard responded.

A china cup slipped from Eishun's hand as the swordsman slumped in the padded chair. Nagi dashed his against the wall and glared at the Magus with murderous fury. "I'll beg your pardon later," he said as the Thousand Master collapsed to the floor. "But this is for the best."

Walking over to the unconscious man, the Magus lifted Nagi as easily as a rag doll. "Is the good doctor ready?"

"Yes sir," Donnet answered, obviously displeased by the turn of events.

"You believe this is a mistake?"

"I thought so eleven years ago," his ministra answered, "and my opinion hasn't changed since."

"It won't be the first time I've made one," he replied as eyes strayed once more to the remnant of the ancient gunwale. "I dare say it won't be the last."

--

**A/N: The chapter title and heading was lifted from the Roman poet Quintus Horatius Flaccus, better known to us as Horace.**

**The quote written on the potion bottle was from Elizabeth Barrett Browning's "Sonnets of the Portuguese." "Revolting Rhymes" was written by well-known children's author Roald Dahl. **

**Ku Fei claimed descent from Gou Jian, who one of the historical sources for the family name Gu or Ku. The names for Ku Fei's extended family come from a Chinese drama entitled "War and Destiny." **

**If you can guess the inspiration for the courtroom scene, you play more video games than I.**

"**Cum Deo Pro Patria et Libertate" was the motto for Francis II of Hungary and translates to "With God for Homeland and Freedom."**

**While the events depicted in Shanghai are wholly fictitious, the events Phillip Markham discusses during the trial are a matter of fact and are based on testimony given during the Tokyo War Crimes Tribunal in 1946. **

**John Rabe is a historical person. He was a German citizen and also, like Oskar Schindler, a member of the Nazi party. Rabe worked in China from 1908 to 1938 and was present at the fall of Nanking to the Imperial Japanese Army. He and other westerners in the city organized the International Committee for the Nanking Safety Zone and did much to bring some relief to the Chinese population. **


	39. Chapter 39

**A/N: It's scary how quickly I finished this, but then this chapter is a number of smaller vignettes. I have one, maybe two, more chapters to go in this arc and then dear reader we can take a breather. My thanks to the usual suspects.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima, but kindly lets us borrow it and do terrible things to his characters. Cycilia Sevensheep, Tiki Pe'le, Xavier March and Chiho Masuda are the creations of Makuhari-Fan01. All other characters are claimed by me.**

**The following conventions are used: **"words", 'thoughts', **"spells"**, _'reading'_and _memories_

**Into the Abyss**

**I could have wished to go some other way, but lightly in the abyss … he put us down** – Dante Alighieri

--

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

Landing on the apartment building's deck, Emily hastily dismounted her broom and ran to the entry door where the family's butler waited. "How is she?" the cadet breathlessly asked.

For as long as she could remember, Winston Monroe had always projected the sense that everything was firmly in control. Today however, the grey-haired man looked worried. "I'm not sure ojou-sama," the butler answered. "Your mother locked herself in the Family Room and hasn't replied to anyone's calls."

Hurrying to the apartment, Emily found a small knot of people gathered about the double doors behind which Cycilia was. "Emily!" a dark-skinned elf called out. She immediately recognized the Kitnews Network's managing editor, Tiki Pe'le. "Thank goodness you're here."

"I came as fast as I could," the girl replied and then glanced about at the unfamiliar faces. "Who are these other people?"

"I called the lawgivers after Cycilia didn't answer me," the editor explained and then pointed to a man wearing a trench coat. "This is Detective March."

"You're the investigator from when those hoodlums broke into our house last year," Emily said.

"That's right Miss Sevensheep," the detective replied. "These other men are detectives and medical personnel."

"We're hoping your mother will respond to your voice," Tiki said.

"The door has been spell-locked," Detective March told her. "Will it open for you?"

"There's only one way to find out."

As the young mage set her hand on the door handle, she felt a tingle that swiftly subsided. Opening the door, Emily stepped inside and shut it behind her before anyone else could follow. Her mother sat on the floor, huddled within a blanket. A dozen or more wine bottles were scattered about, however the cadet could tell they were all sealed. "Mother?" she called and after receiving no response, walked behind the woman.

A scrapbook lay on the carpet, open to pages holding yellowing news clippings. Several had pictures of a much younger Cycilia in the company of an equally young Arn Magnusson. Kneeling on the carpet, Emily could see her mother's tear stained cheek and a red-rimmed eye. Gently, she placed a hand on the other's shoulder. "Mother?"

Cycilia looked up at her, but it took a moment for the woman to answer. "I'm sorry," the reporter said in a numbed tone. "I didn't hear you come in."

"Mother, what's wrong?"

"It's my fault," Cycilia muttered while gazing back down at the scrapbook. "All my fault."

"What are you talking about?" Emily asked as a sick feeling rose up in the pit of her stomach. "What's all your fault?"

"Arn," the woman answered. "You see… I was responsible."

Further conversation was interrupted as Cycilia broke down and wept. Too stunned to do anything else, Emily wrapped her arms about her mother and held on tightly.

--

"Your mother is fine Miss Sevensheep," the medic pronounced as he stepped outside of the reporter's bedroom. Tiki Pe'le heaved a sigh of relief.

"May I speak with her?" Emily asked

"I've given her a sedative," came the reply, "but you should be able to for a short time."

Her cadet cloak swirling behind her, the teen disappeared inside the room as Detective March approached. "I want to thank you for your help," Tiki said.

"Do you think she'll be okay?" the man asked. "She looked pretty shook up."

"Cycilia Sevensheep is as strong as they come," the elf answered. "She'll get over this soon."

"While investigating last year's burglary, I did some checking into her past," the detective nonchalantly remarked. "Were you aware that at one time she had an intimate relationship with the deceased Mister Magnusson?"

"I've heard of it," Tiki answered. Working with a member of one of the city's elite families, especially one with a colorful past like Cycilia's, there was no way he could have avoided it. "But I have a firm policy not to pry into my employees' personal lives."

"The newspapers reported they had a rather 'messy' breakup," the detective added.

"Just what are you driving at?"

"We never did determine who was responsible for the 'burglary'," Detective March answered while emphasizing the word burglary. "As you might remember, I suggested it could have been related to her gateport terrorist stories."

"So you did."

"Since then we've had two agents from Mahora drop in on us, kidnappings, gun battles over the city streets and who knows what else," the lawgiver listed in a rising voice. "Her former lover is implicated and it stinks to high heaven."

Tiki stared at the man who sadly shook his head. "I apologize for dumping on you like that," the detective said. "It's so frustrating to stare at these puzzle pieces and not have a clue how they fit together."

"I understand Detective March," he responded.

"I bet you do Mister Pe'le. I bet you do."

"Do you think Cycilia is in danger?" Tiki asked.

"I don't think she's been out of danger since this all started last year," the man answered.

--

**Megalo-Mesembria, Mundus Magicus**

A respectful knock caught her attention just before the door opened and Monsieur Coeur stuck his head inside. "The limousine is here," the cheetah-man announced. "Is Madame ready?"

Quickly, she reached for her pocket watch and flipped open the lid. "Sorry Ramon," she apologized to her bodyguard. "I lost track of the time … again."

As she secured the cover, light gleamed off the gilded surface inscribed with the words '_To Esme From Kurt'_. "Please inform the Zephyrian ambassador that I'll be late …"

"Already done Madame," the man replied.

"As efficient as always," Esmeralda Ter'selion proclaimed as she stowed the watch and flipped the desk lamp off. "Whatever would I do without you to coddle me?"

"Madame does not need coddling, as you pointed out at our first meeting," her guardian dryly answered. "Would you like me to bring the hover cart in?"

"No need," the elf-woman responded as she pushed back her chair and gripped its padded arms for support. "I think these old bones can make it as far as the hallway."

Silently cursing the shade of Mifuzu Enteofushia, Esmeralda allowed herself to be assisted onto the hover chair and whisked down to the waiting limousine. Having been a personal attendant of Aricia Teotanasia from the princesses' birth until that infernal, arranged marriage, she had every reason to hate that piece of Entelechian offal. How supremely ironic it was that the assassin sent to slay the infant heir of the Teotanasian blood, came to love Princess Aricia like a daughter.

Helplessly watching as Aricia was bundled up and shipped to Ostia … to … to that man who defiled and then murdered her, was more than Esmeralda could bear. Perhaps all those years of suffering at that bastard's hands was deserved for having let Aricia live.

"Turn here," she instructed the driver, much to her bodyguard's consternation.

"Is something wrong Ramon?" she asked. "Going this way will cut several minutes off our transit time."

"But this neighborhood is so … so unsavory Madame," the cheetah-man answered. "Might I suggest a safer route?"

"Nonsense," she declared. "I'm perfectly safe as long as I have you around."

"Still Madame, is it wise to court mishap?"

Before she could reply, Esmeralda spotted a man strolling unconcernedly down the sidewalk, carrying a couple bags that the eatery stands used. "Ramon," she said, "would you say you recognize that fellow over there?"

"No," her guard answered. "Do you?"

"Stop the car," she ordered. "I think that man is wanted by the Council for questioning. Follow him discretely Ramon, and find out where he's going."

"Oui Madame," the cheetah-man responded as he nimbly jumped from the limousine before silently padding away in pursuit.

She hated using Monsieur Coeur as nothing more than a pawn, but there was no help for it. Esmeralda would likewise hate bringing about Speaker Karkolova's downfall too. Regina had been nothing short of friendly since they first met, but now was not the time to let sentiment cloud her judgment. The Speaker's continued opposition to the Separatists' plan was endangering everything.

Esmeralda couldn't restrain the others for much longer. If the gates weren't completely severed, and soon, the Brethren would demand the little princesses' death. And then she'd lose the last piece of Aricia forever.

--

Considering his position as the Mage Council's executioner, it wasn't surprising for Doubek Valkova to be spending another quiet evening alone. What was surprising was answering a knock on the front door and finding an attractive woman on the other side. The stranger squinted though the hallway lights weren't bright. Her brown hair was cut short save for a handful that fell past the woman's bare shoulders, nearly to her waist. "May I help you miss?"

"My name is Chiho Masuda," the woman answered. "I'm an agent for the Council's Office of Inquisition. May I speak with you Mister Valkova?"

Her expression became perplexed at his responding chuckle. "Is something wrong?" Agent Masuda asked.

"No nothing," he answered, still chuckling. "It's only that I didn't expect an inquisition when I opened my door."

"Nobody ever does," Chiho laughed in return. "Does that mean you'll speak with me?"

"Please come in Agent Masuda," Doubek said as he stood aside.

As she walked through the door, he could tell his visitor was busy studying her surroundings. "I apologize for intruding on you at home," the inquisitor told him. "I tried to contact your office and was amazed to find you don't have one."

"I did have an office a long time ago," he confessed. "But nobody ever visited me so I wound up watching the HD or reading magazines. I can do both more easily here."

"Would you care for a drink?" he asked.

"Just water if you have it," Chiho replied. "I'm still officially on the clock."

"I have some in the kitchen," Doubek said as he disappeared through a doorway. "Do you always dress up when you question people or are you trying to distract an old man?"

"My office is having a function tonight," the agent answered as the collection of photographs mounted on the wall caught her attention. "I hope our discussion will be brief."

"What is it you want to speak with me about?" he asked from the kitchen.

"I'm investigating a case of possible corruption," she started and was interrupted by the ringing of a phone.

"Hello, this is Doubek Valkova," he answered and then paused as spells verified his identity to the caller.

"A felon with a standing warrant issued by the Council has been located within Megalo-Mesembria," the dispatcher informed him. "You are to proceed immediately and meet up with local law enforcement at the following address …"

"A moment," Doubek said as he hastily grabbed pen and paper. "What's the address?"

Hanging up the phone, he rushed back into the living room and grabbed his coat and hat from the stand. "I'm afraid our conversation will have to wait Miss Masuda," he told the agent. "But duty calls."

"May I come along?" she asked. "I've never seen the Harbinger in action."

"What about your function?"

"An office party doesn't sound anywhere near as exciting."

As they left his apartment, Doubek failed to notice that a framed picture was missing from his wall.

--

Any city will have its desirable and less desirable neighborhoods. As Agent Masuda steered the dolphin-shaped car through the air, Doubek decided that this neighborhood qualified as the second sort. Streets with broken glow discs showed up as lighter strips between the darker outlines of dilapidated buildings. Various fumes from sources he'd rather not imagine, violently assaulted his senses. A limousine marked as property of the Mage Council was parked next to a law enforcement transport. Along with the car he was in, those were the only vehicles in sight.

Landing next to the transport, Doubek was joined by the chief constable and a familiar figure who greeted him as "Monsieur Valkova."

"Monsieur Coeur," he replied to the cheetah-man. "What are you doing here?"

"My mistress was running late to a meeting, so we took a shortcut," the bodyguard answered. "She recognized a passerby as a wanted felon. I've given my report to the gendarme here and was preparing to leave when you pulled up."

"Mademoiselle Masuda," the bodyguard said to the inquisitor while inclining his head slightly. "It is a pleasure to see you again."

"You two know each other?" Doubek asked.

"We've met," the woman replied.

"What are your orders sir?" the constable asked.

"What's the situation?" he asked in return.

"The suspect is in at that building," the officer replied while pointing to a nearby building. "The room is on the opposite side of the building, corner of the fourth floor."

"Are there any more besides him?"

"Our observer reported seeing a second man, but we don't know beyond that."

"Chief," one of the constables called as he led another man over to the group. "We found the manager."

A slovenly, lop-eared fellow, reeking of cheap beer and cigarettes, wobbled behind the officer. "He's verified that our man checked in. He was accompanied by another human male and a dragon-girl wearing a slave collar."

"Damn!" the chief swore. "That complicates things. We don't want to rush the place if they have a potential hostage."

"I may have an idea," Doubek offered. "Of course, it would require Miss Masuda's help."

Though the agent didn't say a word, a shift in both her expression and posture indicated interest.

"I'll need a key, preferably to a room on the fourth floor," he told the building manager. "And a bottle of whatever rotgut you're drinking."

--

'What a garbage assignment,' Snaps thought as he punched the remote control. He was stuck in fleabag hotel, eating takeout for every meal and watching HD with crummy reception. 'Man, I'd be better off working for Canis Niger.'

'Still, the job isn't too hard,' he continued. 'And our lil' playmate's not a bad looker. Too bad we can't have some fun with her.'

Their boss had been adamant about that prohibition and had graphically described the fate either man would face if they ignored the warning. In Snaps' opinion, no broad was worth losing body parts over. Besides, he could always buy companionship of that kind. 'Not that I'd mind doing her,' the thug added as a fantasy started to play out in his mind. A fantasy swiftly shattered by a rattling doorknob.

"What the hell?" he swore before rising from the chair and stomping over to the front door. Gazing through the peep hole, Snaps saw a white-haired codger try to fit a key into the lock. Jerking the door open, he yelled, "What do you think you're doing old man?"

"Ish this room four … four … three?" the stranger slurred. The codger smelled like a brewery, but behind him stood an attractive, if rather bored looking, woman. While the thug didn't care much for her squint, she had some nice curves underneath her dress.

"Can't you even find the right room?" the woman complained.

"Thissh ish the right one my dear," the codger answered and then pushed into the room.

"Hey," Snaps started to complain, but a hand grabbed his arm and flung him into the hallway. Without thinking, he took a swing at the woman. She easily blocked his punch and returned one that slammed Snaps into the far wall.

"You have the right to remain silent," the broad said as she dodged his next blow. Her counter-punch sank into his stomach and knocked the air from him. "Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law."

"You have a right to an attorney," she added as a foot lashed out. Under other circumstances, the thug might have enjoyed the view of such long, shapely legs, but the high-heeled pump smacked the side of his face, twisting it to the side. "And to have an attorney present during questioning."

Weakly, the thug tried to throw another punch, but his opponent calmly spun him about and smashed his face against the wall. All the while she continued explaining his rights. "If you so desire an attorney and cannot afford one, one will be appointed free of charge."

Snaps crumpled to the floor as she finished with "Do you understand your rights?"

--

Tamaki unsealed the bottle and poured a small amount of liquid onto a towel. Her reflection winced as the hand in the mirror touched damp cloth to the stub of the girl's severed horn. Dark circles from sleepless nights gathered under eyes shot through with angry, red veins. With mechanical precision she daubed the remnant with medicine, all the while, glaring at the lock and collar about her neck.

How did this happen the dragon-girl wondered. She and Koyomi had both been sold into slavery at young ages. Together they had been bought by a man from Granicus and employed at a 'bath house.' It hadn't taken long for them to discover what additional services clients received from the attendants; however they were considered too young for such duties. Though not all of the bath's patrons had felt that way.

Two years after their arrival, one of the customers had corned the dragon-girl as she went about delivering towels to the private rooms. Memories of his surprised bellow at discovering the slave collar didn't prevent her from limited shape shifting brought a pleased smile to the face in the mirror. Knowing that cretin wouldn't molest anyone else without several expensive and painful surgeries had made her beating palatable.

A few days later, they were sold to a new master, a white-haired boy who appeared only slightly older than themselves. From the start, Fate Averruncus had been different from her other owners. Once outside of the baths, he had removed their collars and incinerated them on the spot. "I don't need slaves," he quietly declared. "The path I travel can't be forced on another."

Turning his back upon the pair he had just purchased, the boy started to walk away. Tamaki had stared at her friend, whose mouth gaped as widely as her own. Grabbing each other by the hand, they ran after him crying, "Master! Please wait for us!"

To their surprise, both girls proved adept at using magic. After one year, Fate gave them again the choice to stay or leave. He even offered to send both to Ariadne and enroll in its famed school of magic. Instead they decided to remain with him and begin their training in earnest. Excelling in their studies, the pair eventually joined his other ministra: Shirabe, Shiori and Homura.

Tamaki never understood the talk about Kosmos Entelechia or how they were to fulfill the task of redemption left undone by the Mage of the Beginning, but it didn't matter. All she cared for was to be with her friend Koyomi and to never be a slave again. Absentmindedly, her finger traced along the top of the leather collar and stopped at the clasp.

"Never be a slave again," the reflection whispered as a dangerous glint appeared in its eye.

Once more the girl's awareness sunk into the collar about her throat. Previous examinations had revealed that embedded within the leather were tiny compartments surrounded by a permeable barrier; each filled with a powerful, though mundane, chemical. Removing the lock without using the right spell key would result in an explosion that would remove the girl's head from her shoulders.

"However, that little mouse of a girl removed hers safely," the mirror's twin told her as Tamaki recalled Damashi's replacement bass player. Possessing some slight magic ability, Izumi had filled in admirably for the otherwise occupied Shiori. And despite her limited talent, Ako had managed to take her slave collar off. "If she can do it …"

Somehow a girl with no knowledge of magic achieved a feat that had eluded Tamaki so far. What advantage did that girl from the Old World enjoy? It wasn't intelligence. No! Certainly not! Then what was it? Having limited access to magic, verteres had turned to technology, much like those idiotic catalyst mages. 'Catalyst mages?'

Catalyst, chemicals, barriers, Ako. Thoughts jumbled together as the dragon-girl valiantly attempted to force them into a semblance of order. Could the replacement bass player have stumbled onto a solution not involving magic?

The chemicals in the collar were non-explosive on their own; they needed to combine with something else in order to react. Something that could pass through the thin membrane they were enclosed by. 'It has to be either a gas or liquid,' she thought. 'Liquid? Moisture. Sweat!'

Being leather, the collars retained the moisture from sweat, Tamaki realized, and even a mage knew that combining water with certain chemicals was a bad idea. Obviously, the two were in balance and something else had to be added. Perhaps a small explosive spell centered on the lock?

Eyes shut tight as she concentrated on her spell. Superheated wind flowed around the collar, drawing moisture from the leather while tumblers telekinetically spun. A loud click echoed off bathroom tiles as the lock fell open. Sounds of a scuffle outside carried through paper thin walls, but Tamaki couldn't afford to be distracted. The lock slipped free from the hasp and was clenched tightly in a scaled fist as one of her captors, struggling with a strange man, crashed through the bedroom's door. Her hand felt as if it held an erupting volcano, and then she knew no more.

--

**Meldiana, Wales**

He wandered through the darkened basement. Each step took him to another stone figure, old friends and acquaintances frozen since that awful night seven years ago. Failure, it seemed stared at him from every direction. Nagi had arrived at Meldiana with high hopes that his wife might still be alive, but it had turned out to be a false trail in the end.

"_As you can see from the documentation," Magus Dilane had said, "the flight diverted to Kiev when Anna started experiencing distress."_

_Eyes flitted from the letter on the Aeroflot stationary to the Ukrainian Death Certificate and back; unfortunately, they were all written in Russian. "They took her immediately from the plane and she died in the ambulance while enroute to the hospital," the old mage sadly explained. "This last paper shows the date her remains went through the gateport on their way to Ariadne."_

Anna was gone. According to the hospital's report, she died from complications after giving birth. Her body had been shipped back to the Mundus Magicus for burial. Once more the Thousand Master's world came crashing down.

A pointed hat caught his attention and Nagi gazed into the face of a familiar, pipe smoking mage. As the former Chamberlain of Ostia, Stanley had managed that ancient kingdom's finances; he had also saved Negi's life seven years ago, at the cost of being petrified by one of the attacking demons. Though shattered in the battle's aftermath, skillful hands had carefully mended the old wizard's remains. Tears threatened to spill as the Thousand Master's throat tightened.

"_The Mundus Vetus?" Stanley had exclaimed while wildly waving his pipe about. "Why would we want to settle there?"_

"_Because you and the others will be enslaved or worse you old fool," Nagi had answered. King Enteofushia had fled Ostia for the safety of Argyre, within the Hellas Empire, leaving his former ministers high and dry. Mesembrian Mage Knights patrolled the remaining islands, making it clear who was in charge of the kingdom now. "The Megalo-Mesembrian Senate is looking for scapegoats oji-san. How long do you think they'll let you or any other government official walk around free?"_

"_But we would need to hide our magic in the Old World?" the old mage had complained._

"_Better that than wearing a collar around your neck," Jack Rakan knowingly pointed out. "Or spending the rest of your years in the Cerberus Prison, never knowing if it would be your turn to get shoved into the Valley of Death."_

"_And you may not need to worry about hiding your magic after all," Nagi said. "The village I grew up in is in a remote area and they're already accustomed to mages."_

"_Exile, slavery or prison," Stanley slowly listed. "There's not much choice among them boy."_

"_No there isn't," Nagi had agreed. "But better to make your own choice than to have others thrust theirs upon you."_

"_The Mundus Vetus it is then," the pipe smoking mage decided. "How are we to get past all those guards around the gateport?"_

"_We won't," Alberio answered. "Using our ship, we'll smuggle you over the Hellas border in small groups. Once there, using their gates is a simple matter."_

"_And you've cleared this with Imperial Officials?"_

"_Sort of," Jack answered. The former gladiator wore a sheepish grin._

_Nagi spoke quickly to head off any objections. "Let's just say Rakan-san has fans in high places oji-san. When can you be ready?" _

"You bailed me out of so many jams oji-san," he whispered to the unhearing figure while wiping a speck of dust from the man's nose. "This is poor payment for keeping me out of trouble."

He tensed as the basement door scraped opened, but relaxed as the scent of a familiar perfume wafted over. "Who's there?" he heard a feminine voice ask.

"My name is Takeshi," Nagi answered. "I am Konoe-dono's servant."

The overhead lights flicked on and the clicking of high heels echoed off the stone walls. Nekane Springfield stepped into view. Magic energy radiated from the young woman's raised hand as she cautiously examined the seeming teen. "What are you doing down here Takeshi-san?"

"I beg your pardon Springfield-san," Nagi replied, bowing low as he did so. "My master spoke of the attack on your village and I wished to offer my own prayers for everyone's eventual recovery."

Apparently accepting his answer, Nekane smiled as she let the mana drain away. "Please forgive me for being suspicious," his niece said. "I'm very protective of my family and friends."

"I understand," he responded and then gazed at her as she started to walk away. Nagi hadn't seen his niece since the attack on their home, when she stood by Stanley's side against the strongest demon present that day. Nekane had grown into a woman every bit as beautiful as her mother. "Might I accompany you?"

"As you wish," she replied. They walked for a short distance and then Nekane stopped in front of a figure with an arm raised as if pointing out a target. "This is Owyn Springfield, my father."

Taking out a handkerchief, she began to wipe dust from the man's face. "Let me help?" he said while pulling out his own kerchief. With deliberate care, the two set to work cleaning the petrified mage.

"One hears so much about the Thousand Master, but nothing about his brother save that he had one," Nagi casually remarked.

"I'm afraid that my father didn't lead a very dashing life," Nekane told him. "He was recruited by Mesembria's Praetorian Guard, but he didn't like the politics involved with them; instead, he became a guard at the Cerberus Ermine Detention Compound."

"You're right, that doesn't sound too dashing," he agreed.

"My father never complained," Nekane remarked. "Besides, he and my mother met there."

Nagi suppressed a grin and presented a mildly shocked look as he asked, "Was your mother a prison guard too?"

"No Takeshi-san," she swiftly answered. "My mother had studied to be a Mage-healer and she was performing her internship at that compound."

"She was adept at treating those suffering mental stress and trauma," Nekane explained. "I've heard stories that she even rehabilitated several Kosmos Entelechia agents during her time there."

"She sounds like a very talented person," Nagi guardedly replied.

"Oh, she was," Nekane responded. "Maybe too talented."

Having firsthand knowledge of Gwyneth Springfield's discontent with her sedentary life, Nagi didn't have to ask what his niece meant. A skilled healer and powerful mage in her own right, the daughter of Meldiana's headmaster was destined for bigger things than helping to run a rustic hostel in the Welsh countryside. When Gwyneth had confessed she loved him, Nagi had believed she meant she loved the larger than life hero rather than the man; a situation that was all too familiar.

Millions had swooned over the Thousand Master, the man who ended the Great War. Fan club chapters sprouted up across the length and breadth of the Mundus Magicus; he couldn't even remember how many members they claimed, but it was some ridiculous number. Young women, and some not so young, had thrown themselves at him, or rather at the image they had of him.

Even on the times he availed himself to their company, Nagi could never get them to see past the glossy photographs of a matinee idol to know the real person behind the legend. After a few days, weeks, or months in one case, he would have to leave. One could only be a myth for so long. Only Anna had treated him as a person. A younger Nagi had once boasted that he could fly anywhere to be at her side; however, Anna had gone to a place far beyond even his reach.

"What of your parents Takeshi-san?" Nekane innocently asked.

"I'm … I'm an orphan," he answered in a hushed tone and then gave a strangled cry. Her eyes brimmed with sympathy at that declaration while arms gently clasped his shuddering frame.

--

**Headmaster's Office, Mahora Japan**

"You wanted to see me sir?" Markham-san asked as the American entered his office.

"Please have a seat," Konoemon said while indicating a chair pulled up to his desk. "I, hrmm, understand everything went well this morning."

"Exceedingly well," Phillip responded as the man sat down.

"Markham-san," the headmaster started. "I know you are, hm, familiar with our rules governing behavior."

"Considering your circumstances, some latitude can be allowed," he continued. "However, I must still speak with you about this situation."

The teacher looked at a complete loss as he asked, "What situation is that sir?"

"An anonymous email was sent, he he, to the school newspaper," Konoemon told him as he pushed a sheet of paper towards the man. "Attached was a file containing this picture."

Phillip's face grew pale as the American looked down at an image of him kissing one of his students.

--

**A/N: Chapter heading and title are from Dante's "Inferno". The poem, not the video game.**

**Tamaki obviously got her facts wrong on who removed Ako's collar in "Ala Alba in the World of Magic". Considering her information would have been second or third hand, it shouldn't be a surprise.**

**One of the forums I check out from time to time featured a great deal of speculation that Nagi's/Negi's village was inhabited by refugees from Ostia. Unlike some of the wilder theories bandied about (Zazie will be the final boss or Nekane is really Queen Arika in disguise), this one sounded plausible enough for me to uses, so I incorporated it. There are however, too many people who voiced this idea for me to give credit to a single person. And just so you know, I like the other two theories mentioned as well. I just wouldn't bet money on either being true. They would make good fanfic plots though. **


	40. Chapter 40

**A/N: WARNING - This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to another person or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. SO DON'T SUE ME!**

**Several scenes in this chapter have Phillip observing events from his past. I have tried to differentiate between the two Markham's but it is confusing.**

**Ken Akamatsu owns Negima and its characters. Cycilia Sevensheep appears with the permission of MakuhariFan-01. All other characters belong to yours truly (although I am willing to share).**

**The following conventions are use: **"words", 'thoughts' and **"spells"**

**The Ninth Circle**

**I did not die and I did not remain alive** – Dante Alighieri

--

**Ariadne, Mundus Magicus**

Emily sat next to the bed as her mother slept. For as long as the girl could remember, Cycilia Sevensheep had been a pillar of strength whether dealing with a skinned up knee or reporting from a war zone. This evening had been unnerving to say the least. She could recall only one other time like it; that was the terrible day when they announced Nagi Springfield's death.

Just what had her mother meant by claiming to be responsible for Arn Magnusson? The former fencing master's family had played a prominent role in the city's history; and Arn's father, Olaf, was as influential in the City Council as Emily's own grandfather had been. Growing up, both he and her mother rubbed elbows often, though bumped was the word Cycilia used for it.

Emily had seen the clippings before and knew her mother had dated the man. She had also heard the rumors of a much closer relationship between the two. Some nameless individuals, with nothing better to do with their time, even whispered that the man was her father. The cadet wanted to howl with laughter when somebody spouted such nonsense. One had only to compare Cycilia's wistful features on those times she reminisced about her true love to the disdain the woman treated Arn with. That her last name would be Magnusson was even more ludicrous than it would be Springfield. And yet …

Sometimes Emily wondered what it would have been like to grow up in a larger family like her friend Beatrix had. A mother, a father and a couple of younger siblings, well maybe just one she reconsidered, a little brother so she could remain the only girl, and there you had it. If the world was truly just, the cadet reasoned, Cycilia would have married the Thousand Master. That would have made Emily the eldest child of Magic's First Family. Her cute, little brother could then marry her best friend and they'd all live happily ever after. The absurdity of such an improbable fairy tale brought an amused giggle that she smothered for the sleeping woman's sake. 'Still,' the sheep-eared girl thought, 'it would be nice to have a little brother.'

'Enough,' Emily thought, banishing such daydreams for the moment. There were more important matters at hand.

A respectful knock announced Winston's arrival. As the butler brought her a steaming mug of hot chocolate, Emily could tell he had recovered from his earlier bout of nervousness. "Thank you," she quietly said.

"Will there be anything else ojou-sama?" the grey-haired man asked.

"I'd like you to bring a pallet in here," Emily answered. "I've cleared it with the school to spend the night."

"Very good," he replied and started to withdraw when she called him back.

"You've been with my family for a long time haven't you?" the girl asked.

"Since before your mother was born," the butler answered.

"Mister Magnusson's death seems to have troubled her greatly," Emily said. "Do you have any idea why mother would feel responsible for it in any way?"

"No ojou-sama," the man replied as his normally cheerful smile was replaced by a more serious expression. "I hope you aren't referring to the sordid rumors that gossips like to spread about their betters? I can assure you that there is no truth to those tales."

"I believe you Winston," she swiftly assured the family's trusted servant. "But I'm at a complete loss as to why my mother feels this way."

"Maybe it has to do with their having known each other for so long," Winston suggested. Noting her puzzled look, he tried to explain. "What if one of your childhood friends, someone you had known all of your life, had committed a terrible crime? Wouldn't you feel that if you had said or done something different, it could have prevented a tragedy?"

"Yes. Yes, I can see that," Emily replied as she nodded her head in agreement. "Thank you Winston. You've put my mind at ease."

"My pleasure ojou-sama."

**--**

**Mahora, Japan**

Phillip sat upon the edge of his bed and gazed about the narrow confines of the room. The past six weeks at Mahora had been nothing short of amazing and the teacher was saddened to realize it was over. Gently, fingers touched the black and white photograph of a woman wearing a 40's era dress. "Mom," he called.

In answer to his summons, Betty Markham's spirit appeared seated next to him. "What's wrong son? Are Sayo and the other girls okay?"

"Yeah, they're fine Mom," he answered. "Everything turned out well."

Worry lines furrowed the ghost's brow as she regarded her son. "Why the long face then?"

"We'll be heading back to the States," Phillip said and then explained how he had been summoned to the headmaster's office after the exorcism. Though the old man was exceedingly polite, he could tell something was bothering Konoe-san.

"He had received an anonymous email," Phillip told her. "Attached was a picture … of me kissing one of my students."

Betty's mouth hung open as she tried to corral her thoughts into a semblance of coherency. "And he sacked you?" she finally asked.

"No he didn't," her son answered. "I said I'd resign immediately and he told me to think about it for 24 hours first."

"What are you going to do?"

"I can't stay here Mom, not after this."

Having been a school teacher before going to work with the War Department, Betty Markham could understand what her son meant. As a mother though, it was painful to see her boy in this situation. Hesitant at first, Phillip had warmed to teaching and done well at the reservation school back in New Mexico. But the student teacher relationship required limits, and he had knowingly crossed one. Still …

"Do you like this girl?" she asked. "The one you kissed?"

"Does it really matter?" he shrugged. "I'm old enough to be her father."

"And how much older than you is that Katherine, Kitty, Evangeline, whatever her name is?"

"That's different," he replied.

"How?" Betty countered.

"I'm not her student! Evangeline doesn't have any authority over me!"

"Why not add because there isn't a chance in hell of you two making a commitment to one another?" she snapped back.

"What did you say?"

"You heard me!" Betty said and saw him flinch away. Softening her tone, she continued. "Phil … son, ever since Jessica left you, I've watched you break off every relationship when it starts to get serious."

He stared at the far wall, unwilling to meet her gaze.

"I'm not saying that a little Japanese girl is who you should settle down with," she added, "but when will you allow someone to get close to you again?"

Betty would never know what her son would have answered as Phillip was called away by a knock. Watching from the bedroom's doorway, she watched him open the front door to find a girl with green hair on the other side.

"Markham-sensei," the girl, obviously a student by her uniform, said.

"Chachamaru-san," Phillip responded.

"Is it true you're going to leave Mahora?"

"The headmaster hasn't accepted it yet, but I've turned in my resignation," he answered.

Betty noticed that a white ermine stared at the proceedings from the opposite bedroom. Both watched as her son's visitor raised an arm and then the girl's fist seemed to detach, flying straight into Phillip's chin. The teacher fell to the floor with a thump.

"What was that for?" the rodent asked to Betty's amazement.

"We need to convince sensei to stay," the green-haired girl answered as she retracted steel cabling back into her arm.

'Oh, that's the robot,' Betty thought as Chachamaru lifted Phillip up and set him on the couch.

Two more girls walked into the room. The shorter of the pair wore a full-length robe over her uniform while her taller companion was dressed up like a devil girl character from one of the Saturday morning anime shows. The cosplayer also carried a laptop computer and something that reminded Betty of a scepter.

"Is sensei alright?" the short girl asked.

Chachamaru gazed intently at Phillip before answering, "All vital signs are normal."

"He'll be fine Anya-san," the devil girl remarked as she booted up her computer.

The rodent scurried over and found a perch on Anya's shoulder. "So what's the plan?" he asked his host.

"Chisame-san is going to use her artifact to transport sensei and Chachamaru-san to a virtual reality," the girl named Anya replied. "Hopefully, we can convince him to change his mind."

"This is why you came to Mahora, isn't it?" the rodent asked.

"Yes," Anya answered. "Now stop with the questions Chamo and let us get to work."

--

The hum of electric engines filled Phillip's ears as the side of his face rested against something that felt both silky soft and firm as steel. Forcing open his eyes, the teacher discovered his head was resting upon a lap. Twisting around, he gazed up into a familiar face. "Chachamaru-san?" Quickly he sat up and noticed several things, including that the two of them were the only passengers in a bullet-train car and that neither of them was dressed. "What's going on? Where are my clothes? Where are your clothes?" fired successively at breakneck speed.

Her expression changed not a bit as his student answered. "We're taking a trip sensei, through your past," Chachamaru told him. "As for where our clothing went, I'm not sure. I'll need to discuss it with Chisame-san upon our return."

--

Back in the dorm room, Chisame fiddled with several settings on the computer as Anya screeched "They're naked! Do something!" in her ear.

"I am!" she yelled back as a white mouse popped into the air above the laptop. "Kincha!"

"Yes Mistress Chiu," it replied.

"I need you to locate a sprite apparel creation application," she ordered. "Quick!"

"Men's or women's?" the white mouse asked.

"Both!" Anya and Chisame shouted in unison.

--

"A trip through my past?" Phillip asked as he tried to find a comfortable position that left his legs crossed. "I don't understand."

"You are familiar with the story 'A Christmas Carol' are you not?" the robotic girl asked.

"Just a bit," the English teacher replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Let me see, I'm supposed to be Scrooge and you're the Ghost of Christmas Past?"

"Essentially," Chachamaru answered and then glanced down at his lap. "Are you injured sensei?"

"No!" Phillip responded as eyes snapped forward and cheeks flushed a light red color. "I'm marvelous, simply marvelous."

The American sat a moment in embarrassed silence before asking, "Why are you doing this Chachamaru-san?"

"We," his student started to answer and then paused. "I mean … I don't want you to leave Mahora."

"I'm sorry but I don't think that will be possible," he said while trying to concentrate solely on the girl's face. "There are certain behaviors … lines that shouldn't be crossed … you understand that right?"

Phillip noticed that the wing-like protuberances on either side of the gynoid's head rose upwards only to lower again. "No, I don't understand."

"Every leader needs to maintain a distance from his, or her, troops," he tried to explain. "Getting too close can lead to a breakdown in discipline."

Chachamaru's "ears" wiggled again before she asked, "Have you gotten too close Markham-sensei?"

"I will if I stay."

--

"I found one Mistress Chiu," the plush-doll-like mouse cried out as it bounced about the living room.

"Good work," Chisame replied.

"Downloading now," Kincha announced, followed by "Download complete."

A small dashboard appeared inset to the monitor's upper left corner. "There are a lot of styles," Chisame said as the web-idol scanned a drop down menu in fascination. "This could be a lot of fun."

"Just pick something!" Anya urged. "And hurry!"

"Spoilsport."

--

**Angeles City, Philippines**

Phillip stared down in shock at the clothing that suddenly materialized. The black pants and tee-shirt, he didn't mind, but the leather vest with criss-crossing straps, wrist bands, studded belt and boots with four inch thick soles were way over the top. Placing a hand to his forehead, the teacher felt the bandana crinkle beneath his fingers. Glancing over at his companion, he noted that Chachamaru was dressed in a solid black blouse and skirt combination with boots that laced up to the gynoid's knees.

"I take it Chisame-san's into the 'Goth' look?" he asked.

"Apparently," the monotone response came. "With a beard, you'd look very piratical sensei."

Metal links clinked as he shifted his legs. "Um, thanks," the middle-aged man replied, feeling only slightly less uncomfortable in his current garb. He felt the train decelerate as it slowed and then stopped.

"We get off here Markham-sensei," Chachamaru told him.

"What in the world …?" Phillip exclaimed as they stepped into the busy street. Gawking about, the man didn't notice the bike and rider rushing towards him until it was too late to avoid them. Whoosh! They passed through him as if Phillip wasn't there at all. "What the …?"

"These are shadows," Chachamaru explained. "They have no reality outside of your memories."

'My memories,' Phillip thought as he glanced around again. The man realized that what he was viewing was just outside the fences surrounding Clark Air Base in the Philippines. "This is Field Avenue," he said aloud.

Just then, he saw a group of young men walk into view. Dressed in jeans and tee-shirts, several proclaiming a favored sports team, the men were loudly talking and laughing. In the lead was an older man with shirt poking out from the beginnings of a beer gut. "Tech Sergeant Lemons," Phillip said in disbelief.

"A friend?" Chachamaru asked.

"He was my first supervisor," he answered. "I heard he passed away nearly 10 years ago."

Next to the old sergeant walked a young man wearing shorts and a white and red shirt emblazoned with the words "Troy Warriors."

"That's me," Phillip surprised voice proclaimed.

"I did mention that we are traveling through your past," the gynoid replied.

The group of airmen continued down the street and then stopped in front of a club named the Oasis. Sergeant Lemons turned to address his companions. "Men, we are gathered here to initiate our newest comrade to all that Angeles City has to offer and to help him celebrate a well deserved first stripe."

At that a cheer went up from the others. "Any words Airman Markham," his supervisor said after the noise died down.

"In a situation like this, I guess there's only one thing to say," the eighteen year old Phillip replied. "The first round's on me."

More cheers went up as several hands thumped the young man's back. The airmen entered the bar, followed by the older Phillip and Chachamaru. Blaring music, laughter, shouting and the constant clink of bottles filled the air. A grey-haired woman, wearing a dress that came down to her ankles, greeted her customers with a loud, "Hello! Hello!"

"Hello Mama-san," Sergeant Lemons responded as the man dug into his pocket and pulled out a folded bill.

Indicating Phillip, he explained, "We've got a new man in." Passing the money to their hostess, the man added, "He needs to be broken in right."

Mama-san laughed as her face broke out in a wide grin. "We'll take good care of cherry boy for you."

As they passed by a woman clad in nothing more than a bathing suit, Phillip paused and gave her a long look. When asked who she was, he replied, "I don't recall her name but she did this trick with bananas …" His voice tailed off as Chachamura gazed blankly at him. "Oh, it was nothing."

Bikini clad girls took turns dancing upon the stage for the appreciative audience, and then spent the rest of their time serving beer or trying to get the men to buy them drinks. Phillip could feel the knot in his stomach tighten as his younger self threw back a beer with his buddies. Knowing what was going to happen didn't make it any easier to watch.

As the first round was finished, another dancer took her turn on the stage. The short haired girl seemed tinier than he recalled. "Pat," he whispered.

"Who is Pat?" his companion asked.

"The girl on the stage," Phillip answered. "We called her Pat because she wore her hair like a well known rock singer of the time."

Half way during the song, the dancer stepped off the stage. The girl headed straight to where his younger self sat and coaxed him onto the stage to dance the rest of number with her. The crowd cheered as they finished and the couple disappeared back stage.

"Do you want to follow?" Chachamaru asked.

"No," he answered, remembering all too well what occurred. He had been eighteen and a virgin when they went back stage. He was still eighteen upon returning to the table. Learning later on that the bar hostess had auctioned him off to the girls who worked there hadn't bothered the younger Phillip; finding out that the girl who had been his first didn't care for him was a different matter. "It's not one of my crowning moments of glory."

"It's kind of crazy Chachamaru," Phillip mused. "One day you're a kid, without a care in the world; then the next you're magically all grown up. Despite how ill-prepared you might be for it, all of the responsibilities associated with being an adult are thrust upon you, and you have to sink or swim in this strange, new world."

In the almost 27 years since, the man often felt like he was still trying to figure it out.

"It's time to go sensei," Chachamaru told him. This was followed by a curiosity-tinged "Oh," and "I think that lady is going to do the trick with the bananas you talked about?"

Phillip's eyes goggled huge before he grabbed his student by the elbow and hustled her outside as quickly as possible.

--

**Kosovo, Former Republic of Yugoslavia**

Their next stop took the pair to ruins of farm houses nestled between hills covered with pine trees. An earth mover, painted in woodlands camouflage, sat on the edge of the former village next to several mounds of dirt and rock. A soldier, with rifle slung over one shoulder, stood by the mover and took another puff on a cigarette.

A few meters away, an armored personnel carrier idled as more men wearing uniforms spilled out of its back end. "Let's get it moving!" a familiar voice barked. "Taylor! You and Vicente get that shelter up!"

"On it sergeant," one of the scurrying men replied.

"Where are we now?" Chachamaru asked.

"We're about 5 kilometers north of the town of Strpce," Phillip replied in a flat tone. "That's a Serbian enclave within Kosovo. Nobody in the unit could pronounce the name of this place, so we just called it 'Hell'."

Quickly, two men set up a canopy and the others began to strip off helmets and body armor, neatly stacking them beneath. The smoker flicked his cigarette away and approached the one who had been giving orders.

"What's going on here?" the guard asked, obviously disturbed.

"We're putting our equipment under cover," was the response.

"According to the General Order, everyone is supposed to wear all protective gear if outside the base perimeter," the guard reminded the apparently remiss leader.

"I'm well aware of what the General Order says soldier," the other man responded. "Are you aware that the temperature will get over 90 today? I'm not going to have my people fall over from heat exhaustion just to make some admin clerk happy."

Men donned masks and gloves before picking up shovels or rakes and heading to the earthen mounds while someone fired up the mover's diesel engine.

"What are those men doing sensei?"

"They're digging."

"Digging for what?"

"Bodies."

Chachamaru glanced at Phillip, who continued to stare at the scene before them. "We were exhuming corpses from a mass grave for identification," he explained. "People tend to forget that the KLA attacks on Serbs provoked federal forces to retaliate."

"Which one are you sensei?"

In answered, he pointed to a figure still wearing a helmet and vest. "I'm the loudmouthed one with all the stripes on his sleeve."

Work progressed as the morning started to give way to noon. A woman, dressed in a peasant skirt and blouse, wandered towards the group and started speaking rapidly in Serbian and gesturing wildly. But no one could understand what the woman was trying to say. Pulling a grainy photo from her pocket, she thrust it forward and said "Majda."

The uniformed Phillip gingerly took the picture and stared at the image of a smiling, little girl. "Majda?" he asked and the woman eagerly affirmed the child's name. A translucent copy of the girl suddenly appeared at the woman's side. Little hands attempted to grab hold of the woman's skirt, but kept passing harmlessly through it.

When Majda turned towards him, it was all either Phillip could do to keep their breakfast down. One side of the child's face was torn and bloody, resembling raw hamburger with shards of bone sticking out of it. An eye, still connected to the nerve, hung down from its socket. Struggling not to vomit, the man spun away only to find the other shades of the slaughtered villagers were visible too.

Everywhere he turned, the ghosts could be found, all of them bearing some grisly wound. Some stood numbly staring at their devastated homes, others walked from person to person trying like the little Majda to gain their attention, while a few sat on the ground and wept piteously.

"Get them away from me!" the sergeant screamed as hands covered eyes and knees buckled. "Please get them away!"

--

**Mahora, Japan**

Anya gazed down at her knees and the two clenched fists lying stop them. Images of horribly mangled people marched across the laptop's display. From the kitchen came noises of retching and it was all she could do to not join Chisame over the sink. Even the ermine had been shocked, remaining quiet on her shoulder.

"How could anyone do those things?" the youngster angrily demanded. She remembered how gravely wounded Negi had been in Megalo-Mesembria, but this brutality exceeded anything the girl had seen before.

"Its war ane-san," Chamo gently answered.

"We didn't leave the arena until after Konoka-san's mass healing spell," he reminded her. "Although Takahata-san and the others kept you away from the casualties, the battle at Ostia was just as bloody."

"That could happen here, couldn't it?" Anya asked in a pained whisper. "Those people could be Izumi-san or Murakami-san or the twins?"

Anya didn't pay attention to the ermine's response as the young mage was too busy planning her strategy. If that Harbinger fellow was to be believed, many lives depended on whether sensei remained at Mahora or not. She needed to find the right inducement to convince Markham to stay.

--

**Kosovo, Former Republic of Yugoslavia**

"That was the first time I'd ever seen ghosts before," Phillip explained as the pair picked their way along a muddy track from the military compound to the small village below. "The doctor called it mental exhaustion and put me on bed rest for 48 hours."

"So what happened after that?" Chachamaru asked.

"I was declared fit to return to duty," he answered as the shadow Markham walked a short distance ahead of them. "Since the grave detail had already left that morning, I went into town to celebrate my birthday."

On the village outskirts, a dark-haired girl, maybe nine or ten years old and dressed in ragged clothes, ran in front of the uniformed man. Holding out her hands, she said "Please" in English. As the other Phillip began to walk away, she stepped in front again and tried once more. "Please," the girl repeated with a touch more desperation in her plea. Without a word, Sergeant Markham took some money from his pocket and handed it to the child. Slowly she unfolded the twenty mark bill and then stared at the airman's back as he disappeared into the village's only bar.

Formerly an outbuilding housing farm equipment, the owner had hurriedly converted the structure to sell alcohol to his American neighbors up the hill. Nicknamed 'Malone's' by the captive clientele, it soon became the district's biggest money making enterprise and attracted any number of people hoping to share in the wealth.

A single, dimly lit room took up the front half of the building. Chairs of at least a dozen different shapes and styles clustered around makeshift tables of plywood sheets laid atop barrels. Phillip sat alone, sipping a local brew from an unlabeled bottle. Another uniformed man entered and the bar owner warmly greeted his customer, swiftly ushering the newcomer to a back room.

At the time, it had felt to Phillip like he sat there for hours, but in truth only a matter of minutes had passed before the little girl he had given the money to arrived. The owner spoke sharply to her, as if scolding the child for being late, and then led her away. Markham paid it no further attention, continuing to nurse his drink, until he heard the screaming.

Like a shot, he was up and pushing past the agitated bar owner. The screams continued as Markham rammed his shoulder into a locked door once … twice … and a third time when it finally flew open. The other man's pants were down around his ankles as hands gripped the struggling child by her head and neck. "You son of a bitch!" that other Phillip roared before slamming into the would-be rapist, knocking both to the ground.

Over and over the two men rolled across the floor, trading punches, bites and gouges while the youngster cowered by the door. Phillip's other self rolled atop his partially dressed opponent and proceeded to beat the man bloody, stopping only when two Security Policemen arrived and pulled the combatants apart. Even now, the middle-aged American felt his heart thump wildly as anger swelled in his chest.

As the Markham in the memory walked back to the door, tiny fingers clutched at a passing pant leg. Glancing down, he saw the youngster's hesitant smile. "Much?" her quavering voice said.

"Yeah kid," he had wearily replied in English. "Whatever you say."

"Do you often get into fights sensei," the gynoid asked, undoubtedly recalling his earlier brushes with Watanabe's gang.

"Not as many these days," Phillip answered. "I used to have some anger management issues. Now it only happens when people really piss me off."

--

**Mahora, Japan**

"Does that girl look familiar to you?" Chisame asked as the hacker froze the image on the display.

Anya looked again and answered "No, should she?"

Opening Photoshock, Chisame cropped the image so that only the child's head was visible. Rapid clicks sounded as practiced fingers ran across the keyboard. "Why are you bothering with this now?" Anya asked as the picture morphed before her eyes, bringing a startled gasp when it finished.

"How about now?"

--

**Kosovo, Former Republic of Yugoslavia**

"Hey Sarge," the driver called out as the Rover sped down an unpaved road, "Are you sure everything's okay?"

The airman could have been asking about Chachamaru, Phillip thought. The robot had been quiet since they had left the bar outside Camp Eagle. Had his student been human rather than a machine, he might have said she was lost in thought, perhaps unsettled by what she had witnessed. Of course, it was difficult to remember that she was a collection of circuits and processing chips. There were times though, when the thought crossed his mind that Chachamaru was far more human than himself.

"I'm fine Vince," the Markham of this memory answered. "I haven't seen any dead people in days."

"I'm being serious," the young man responded. "We were all kinda concerned back in the village."

From their vantage in the back seat, the couple continued listening to a conversation nearly five years old.

"I mean if something happens to you, who'll be there to rescue Davis the next time some officer gets his panties all in a wad?" Vince continued.

A cloud of dust rose behind the Range Rover as they approached another set of ruined buildings. Such sights seemed more numerous than the wildflowers that grew alongside the road. Suddenly, they all heard the sharp retort of a rifle as a bullet struck the windshield and ricocheted off. Tires squealed as the driver spun the steering wheel about, causing the vehicle to skid to a stop. Grabbing their weapons, both airmen exited the cab and crouched for cover behind the doors.

"Markham here," the sergeant said as he flipped the radio's switch to open.

"I copy you Sergeant," crackled a voice in response. "What's up?"

Another shot fired and they could hear a dull thunk as it struck the front grill, eliciting a curse from the younger man. "Damn! That one got the radiator!"

"Airman Perez and I are under sniper fire," he answered. "We're about 8 klicks out on the road to Prizren."

"Can you drive out of there?"

"Negative."

"Sit tight," the distant voice ordered. "We'll have the cavalry there pronto."

A front tire was hit by the next round. "Sit tight?" Vince repeated as air hissed out of the bullet hole. "Easy for him to say."

"The sniper's shooting from that building on the far right," Sergeant Markham pointed out. "I'll draw his fire and you work your way down the far side of the road and come at him from behind."

"Are you serious?"

"Do you want to sit here all day?"

"Heck no."

"Alright then," the other Markham replied. "After you hear the next shot, you'll have a couple of seconds to run while he reloads."

Dashing from the truck, Phillip heard the whine of the bullet and dove behind some brush. He felt a burning sensation across his thigh and glanced down to see a trickle of blood. Keeping low to the ground as he slowly worked his way closer to the gunman's location. Sweat trickled down the man's face, attracting a swarm of tiny insects that buzzed about him. Hunkered behind a large rock, the airman was only a handful of meters away, but it was all open ground. He detached a grenade from his web belt and eyed the window his unseen opponent was firing from.

To his left, he heard the clatter of automatic rifle fire. A familiar looking girl held an AK-47 and sprayed the sniper's position with bullets. Phillip pulled the pin and tossed the grenade into the window. It exploded just as girl's weapon jammed. She suddenly cried out as Airman Perez reached from behind and grabbed her. "Got her Sarge!" his companion shouted.

The observers had calmly watched as the encounter progressed, saying not a word to each other. Sergeant Markham rushed into the building with an M16 held before him. "Oh God no!" they heard him shout.

Chachamaru turned to her teacher, questions deeply etched on her face. "Go ahead," Phillip told her. "I already know what's in there."

Glancing in through the open doorway, the gynoid saw the sergeant kneeling on a stone floor, yelling and weeping at the same time. Clutched in the man's arms was the body of a young boy whose face had been half blown away by the grenade. She flinched in surprise as her teacher softly said, "And that's how I got my combat medal."

--

Gravel crunched under foot as the pair tramped across the grounds of Camp Eagle. "That was the girl from the bar wasn't it?" Chachamaru asked.

Phillip nodded his head in answer. "Near as anyone could tell, she fled the village after I left and fell in with that group guarding the weapons cache," he explained. "I owe her my life for distracting the sniper."

"Whatever happened to her?"

Halting outside of a portable building, they could hear a woman's shout. "Damn it Markham! Are you doing this because I'm a woman or because I'm black?"

"I think that's what we're going to find out," he replied as a grin spread across his face. Motioning for his student to follow, Phillip stepped through the wall and into the CO's office. The major who had deployed from Okinawa with them, had caught pneumonia in route and was recuperating in Pristina. Captain Lakeisha Wallace-Stevens had been shuffled over from Personnel to take command of their flight.

Being height challenged, the top of the woman's head didn't even reach his chin, the captain made up for it with a forceful way of speaking. "Do you have any idea the stink you've raised at Brigade Headquarters?"

"All I did Ma'am was ask what the procedures were to adopt a national if we couldn't find that little girl's family," the other Markham answered. "I wasn't trying to cause an international incident."

"Well it's turning into one," the captain replied. "I can appreciate your wanting to help her, but now we've got both the Kosovars and Serbs screaming we're trying to steal their children."

"Not that any of them cared when she was begging in the streets or being forced into prostitution," he had replied.

"How were you planning on taking care of a child anyway?" she had asked. "This is a military base, not a daycare."

"My mother's agreed to take her in until I can make permanent arrangements," the other Phillip answered. "Are you suggesting I drop the whole matter?"

"No," the woman responded as she glanced out the office's sole window. "But it would sure make my life a lot easier if you did."

Captain Wallace-Stevens walked to her desk and picked up a manila folder. "While you're here, I want to talk about your medal."

Sergeant Markham's grimace prompted her to add, "Let's not start that argument again."

"I'm sorry Ma'am, but I don't think I deserve a medal for fragging a kid."

"Look sergeant, I've watched your men bust their butts since day one," the captain told him. "But I can't convince Headquarters that they all deserve a medal for 'doing their jobs'."

"The medals for you and Perez are our only chance for any sort of recognition," she continued.

"I understand, but I don't like it."

"There are a lot of things I'd do differently if I were in charge sergeant," the woman confessed. "But they haven't tapped me to be the Commander in Chief yet.

"Do you intend to press forward on trying to adopt this girl?" she asked.

"Yes, if I can," he answered.

"Very well sergeant," the captain responded. "You're dismissed."

As they watched the shadow Markham depart, Chachamaru asked again what became of the little girl. "I was told her grandparents were alive and she was being sent to them," Phillip replied. "I wanted to contact them and find out how she was doing, but the NATO officials wouldn't release their names to me let alone an address."

--

**Mahora, Japan**

Train doors opened to the familiar sight of Mahora. "Are we done with the stroll down memory lane?" Phillip asked.

"I believe this is the present sensei," the robotic student answered. "But we are still observing."

"Too bad," he remarked. "I was hoping to ditch these threads."

A minute after speaking, his clothing was replaced by an all white outfit that included a top hat and tails. "I like the cravat sensei," Chachamaru commented.

"Why do I feel like I've stumbled into a Tim Burton movie?" the man muttered to himself. Aloud he asked where they were heading next.

"Since we're in front of the High School," his guide responded, "I would suggest we start here."

Arriving at 1A's classroom, Phillip noted that three students besides his guide were missing: Sayo, Anya and Chisame. The rest of the girls were acting normally. Yuna snoozed in her back row seat while Yue was furiously scribbling away. 'Probably finishing last night's homework,' he thought.

His teaching assistant, Takane Goodman, frowned as she entered the room. "Rise," she said as chairs scrapped across the floor. "You too Akashi-san."

As the class bowed in the traditional greeting, Professor Gandolfini walked in. A thousand questions erupted, prompting the substitute teacher to shout for quiet. "Markham-sensei will not be in this morning," the man explained. "Now take your seats."

"Professor?" Heads turned as the class rep asked, "Is sensei alright?"

"He is well," Gandolfini answered. "Please turn to page 88 in your text books."

Ayaka continued to stand. "Professor, we're not using the text book." She held up the thick paperback novel previously passed out. "Markham-sensei has us reading this."

Further conversation was interrupted by a loud buzzing. "Holy crap!" Haruna exclaimed as the rumormonger stared down at her cell phone's screen.

"Miss Satome," the teacher started but was cut off by her announcement.

"Sensei's been suspended!"

More than two dozen students, and one teaching assistant, gathered around the gossip's desk, each craning her neck to get a view of the picture of their homeroom teacher kissing …

"Kugimi!"

Madoka's face turned pale as the others stared at her. "I … um … that is … uh …"

"Class," Gandolfini called.

"How could you?" Takane shrieked at the flustered girl. "Don't you realize he could be fired for this?"

"Class," the man repeated louder.

"So who would become our teacher then?" Fuka asked. "Would Negi-kun transfer over here?"

A boom as loud as a thunder clap sounded, drawing everyone's attention to the front of the class. "Class 1A!" Professor Gandolfini looked unperturbed as he spoke. "Take your seats."

Walking back to her desk, Fumika tripped over her sister's backpack. Still unzipped, its contents spilled onto the floor. "Sorry," the girl cried out and then gazed down at an unfamiliar shape.

"So you had it!" The red-headed paparazzi scowled at her classmate while bending down to retrieve her missing camera.

"What's going on Asakura-kun?" the teacher demanded.

"This is my camera sensei," the reporter answered.

"Can you prove it?"

"The photos from my last story are on the memory disk," Kazumi told him. "Let me show you."

Both student and teacher froze as the last picture taken appeared on the display. Veins stood out on the reporter's forehead as her eyes fastened onto Fuka who took a step backwards. "Narutaki-kun," Gandolfini said, "come with me."

--

Fuka trembled as she sniffed back the tears making her eyes glisten. Standing before the headmaster's desk, the girl felt like the condemned about to receive a sentence. "Please spare me," she wanted to cry out, but the words remained frozen to the back of her throat.

Shizuna stood at Konoemon's elbow. "This isn't a harmless prank," the woman said. "Coupled with the camera's theft, this constitutes grounds for dismissal."

"I am most disappointed Fuka-kun," the headmaster remarked. "What explanation do you have for your actions?"

"I … I thought Markham-sensei didn't want to be here," the girl answered. A hand rubbed against her eyes. "I thought he would rather be in South America with his friend."

"What's this?" Shizuna asked.

"On the class trip … sensei's friend from the newspaper asked him to tour South America with him," Fuka responded. "And if he left then maybe … maybe Negi-kun would take his place."

Shizuna was about to say something when the headmaster lifted a hand for silence. "You like Negi-kun don't you?" the old mage asked.

"I …," the teen floundered for words. "I … do … like him headmaster-sensei."

"How do you think Negi-kun would react to what you've done?" Konoemon asked.

"You're not going to tell him are you?"

Bushy brows rose as steel-hard eyes bore into her. Fuka could imagine those eyes where sharp knives that sliced through skin and muscle, down to the bone. "Please don't tell him."

"Considering how quickly information spreads around this campus, do you believe he won't find out if I don't?"

She could feel the wetness as tears slid down her cheeks.

"You are not alone in liking Negi-kun," the headmaster said. "But his responsibility is to another class. We require him to teach others as he has taught you and your classmates; just as we require Markham-san to teach you now."

"I'm … I'm sorry headmaster-sensei."

"It is not I you need to apologize to Fuka-kun," Konoemon said. "Do you wish to stay at Mahora?"

Fuka nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

"Then you need to show me you desire to remain."

"H … how?"

"Pay attention to your studies; all of them," he answered. "Learn how to use your talents to help."

"Yes sir," she sniffled.

"But first you must admit to your classmates what you have done and apologize to them," the headmaster told her. "And most importantly, you must make amends to your homeroom teacher. Only then will I believe you are sincere."

--

Back in the dormitory, Anya watched as her teacher and roommate boarded the train. "I think that's enough," she told Chisame.

The web idol's lips pressed tightly together as the girl entered new commands. "Are you sure about this Anya-san?"

"No," she admitted. "The only thing I'm sure about is that I can't afford to fail."

Chisame pressed down on a key. "Compiling and saving," the hacker said as the room vanished before Anya's eyes.

--

Doors slid apart. "Mister Markham?" she called out. "It's me, Anya."

Still dressed in the white top hat and tails, her teacher stepped outside. "Glad to see you kept your clothes," he commented upon noting the black robe she wore.

"I'm sorry about that," Anya replied. "We weren't able to test for bugs."

"Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?" Phillip asked. "You seem short to be the Grim Reaper."

"Please sir, this is serious."

"Oh, so making me relive all those parts of my past wasn't serious?" the man sarcastically asked. "Well excuse me."

'He's angry,' she realized and was surprised by it. In her zeal to convince the teacher to stay, the youngster never considered that he might find her means objectionable. 'I've really stepped in it this time.'

"I have just a few more things to show you Mister Markham," Anya said aloud.

"Let's get this farce over with," the man remarked.

Mentally cringing, Anya led him through nearly empty streets to the World Tree Plaza. They found Negi and Asuna silently standing before a row of seven statues. A patch covered Asuna's left eye while the right sleeve of Negi's coat hung empty at the boy's side. Anya's throat tightened as she stared at the boy who had been her lifelong friend.

"What's going on?" Phillip asked.

"This is a few weeks after the attack on Mahora," she answered. "Negi and Asuna lived. They're mourning for those who didn't."

"My mission was a failure so I was recalled to London right after you departed. Out of the twenty-nine students left, six were known to have survived: Kagurazaka, Karakuri, Kugimia, Tatsumiya, Nagase and Hakase. Konoe Konoka disappeared during the battle and was believed to be the seventh."

Phillip's eyes roamed over the line of statues, recounting names as he went, "Ku, Hasegawa, Akashi, Satome, Sakurazaki, Miyazaki and Rainyday. They were all turned to stone?"

"Yes sensei," she answered.

They watched as Asuna laid a hand upon her partner's shoulder. "It's time to go," the one-eyed girl said.

Slowly the boy lifted his head and Phillip could see the madness reflected in Negi's gaze. "We'll avenge them Asuna," the youngster promised in a voice that was no longer a child's. "We'll avenge them all."

"And what happened to the others?" Phillip asked. She could hear the strain in the man's tone.

"They were all battle casualties."

"You said Madoka survived," he said. "Where is she?"

"Take hold of my sleeve," the young mage instructed. In an instant, they stood outside a seedy looking bar on a trash-strewn street. "You might remember this place. It's the Duke Street Café."

They found Madoka inside, listlessly dancing on the stage for an equally unresponsive crowd. Her former classmate looked dangerously thin and the girl's skin had an unhealthful, yellow tinge to it. As the music ended, the dark-haired girl walked off the stage and into the dressing area.

Madoka opened a bottle and upended it over a spoon, filling it with a fine, white powder. "Oh God," Phillip breathed as she held the spoon over a candle's flame and watched the powder liquefy. "Oh God! What are you trying to say?"

Her teacher shook as his face colored red. "Are you telling me Madoka's going to become a junkie if I leave?" the man shouted at her.

Words failed Anya as she watched the other girl remove a syringe from a drawer and fill it with the unknown drug. Carefully Madoka examined her scarred fingertips and, after selecting one, jabbed it with the needle. All the while sensei sobbed, "Why are you showing me this? Why?"

--

He looked down from the altar at the small number of worshippers seated across the front row and mentally sighed. While it was a weekday mass, the sparse attendance saddened him. "Certainly Mahora has a larger community that this," he thought to himself.

When the parish's regular priest fell ill, Father Tomatsu was rushed down from his post in Aomori to fill in. Being Mahora, the archdiocese found it practical to send a priest who had already been exposed to the hidden world of mages.

"Lift up your hearts," the priest said in a rich baritone.

"We lift them up to the Lord," the celebrants responded.

"Let us give thanks to the Lord, our God," he continued as a stranger entered the sanctuary.

"It is right to give him thanks and praise," the congregation replied.

The newcomer was a middle-aged man and an obvious foreigner. 'Probably affiliated with one of the schools,' Tomatsu told himself as he watched the newcomer kneel towards the altar before taking a seat in the very back. The remainder of the service concluded without further event.

"Ite, missa est," he intoned, to which the congregation responded with "Deo gratias."

After mass had ended, the priest stopped by his unexpected guest. "I'm Father Tomatsu," he said in his limited English.

"My name is Markham," the man replied. "Phillip Markham."

"If you don't mind my saying, you look like a man wrestling with a whole host of angels," he observed.

"Only about thirty or so," Markham replied.

"Would you like to talk about it Mister Markham," Tomatsu asked. Noting the other's hesitation, he quickly added, "Or if you'd like, I play a mean game of backgammon."

--

"And that's my quandary Father," Phillip said as the man moved another piece off the board. "I want to stay. I even feel obligated to, but I can't."

Tomatsu upended the dice cup and then glanced down at the game board as if studying his next move while thinking over what the teacher had told him. "So the young lady initiated the kiss and you informed her afterwards that you two couldn't continue down that path," the priest summarized and waited as Markham nodded in affirmation. "Did you want to kiss her?"

"If I hadn't," the other man answered, "we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"And your student, did she accept what you said about not progressing any further in that direction?"

"She seemed to."

"Do you not trust her to end it there?" Tomatsu asked.

"No, I trust her," Phillip responded. "She's one of those kids that have their head on straight."

"So if the both of you have agreed not to take your relationship that way, why must you leave?"

He could see the American tense up at the question. 'So what is your real problem Markham-san?' the priest mentally asked.

"It's not really the kiss that's the issue," Phillip finally answered. "That's just a convenient way to dodge it."

Leaning back in the chair, the man was still wound as tightly as an old fashioned watch spring. "The truth is that I care about the young lady as well," the American admitted. "But the difference in our ages is too great for anything but a bad end to come of it."

Tomatsu moved the white stone forward, bumping one of his opponent's pieces back to the starting point. "While it is no longer as prevalent as it once was, such a gap is not as insurmountable here as it would be in the West."

"I'm 44 Father," Phillip informed him. "Let's say we wait until she graduates to get serious in our relationship. She'll be 18 then and I'll be closing in on 50. Why would she pick an old wreck over somebody nearer her own age?"

"I can't speak for another," the priest said as he passed the dice cup over, "however, many would prize such devotion over mere youth."

"Anything's possible," his guest conceded. The man frowned while looking at his roll. "Though it isn't very probable."

"In my profession Mister Markham," Tomatsu said while scooping the dice up, "I put my credence in faith over probabilities."

"Probabilities say it is more likely that the sun will rise in the east tomorrow, but it is my faith in this that dictates my actions." The dice produced doubles and the priest moved two more stones forward. "Many times we, in an attempt to eliminate uncertainty, overanalyze to the extent that nothing gets accomplished. When your President Kennedy confidently declared that an American would land of the moon within ten years, it was faith not probability that prompted his prediction."

"How much better off we would be if everyone could act from faith such as that." With that he passed the cup back to Phillip.

--

Anya knelt on the carpet and hung her head as the door slammed shut behind her homeroom teacher. She had been sent to Mahora to prevent Markham-sensei from leaving and all she had managed to do was anger the man. The twelve year old had dug her pit deep and only now realized it was too deep to climb out of. Hands flew to the girls eyes; they would all pay for her failure, Nodoka, Chisame, Asuna and …

"Negi!" she wailed.

That afternoon found the young mage sitting in a subdued classroom as the home economics teacher droned on and on about consumer credit pitfalls. Who cared about mortgages and equity transfers when an army of demons could attack at any moment? How many of the girls around her would be alive this time next year? Was there any way to salvage the mess she had made?

The lecture stopped as the classroom door opened and a very haggard-looking Mister Markham stepped inside. "Sorry to interrupt," he said to the other teacher, "but could I have a moment with the class?"

"Sensei!" came the cry as his students surged forward and mobbed their homeroom teacher. A million questions were asked but Markham ignored them with a smile and a promise of "later."

"Right now I have an important announcement to make," he said and the class quieted. "As you know, the festival is coming up and our class needs to decide what we're going to do for it by this Friday."

A sea of confused faces greeted his announcement. "Does …" Ayaka started to say. "Does this mean you're staying Markham-sensei?"

"It does indeed," Phillip answered as good order and discipline dissolved into pandemonium.

"We should throw a party to celebrate," someone suggested.

"Party … party," the cry went up.

Several classmates had recounted to Anya the many instances when Negi lost control of his class. While the mob scene before her appeared just as chaotic as their descriptions, Mister Markham at least kept his clothes on.

"Sensei," a voice called and the room suddenly quieted. Fellow students moved away as Fuka stood in front of their teacher. "Sensei … I'm … I'm the one who took the photograph and sent it to the school newspaper and I'm sorry," rushed out in a flood of words.

"Miss Narutaki" Phillip replied, "I accept your apology for now, but we'll talk later about your actions."

His eyes scanned the circle until they set upon a girl with short, dark hair. "Miss Kugimiya."

Anya watched as the teen squared her shoulders and stepped forward. "Here Mister Markham."

A stern expression was on the man's face as he addressed his student. "Miss Kugimiya, I need you to make me a promise."

If Madoka was apprehensive, Anya didn't see any evidence of it. "What promise is that sir?"

"I want you to promise me that no matter how rough life gets, no matter how hopeless your situation seems, you will never, ever, turn to drugs for the answer."

From the stunned look of her face, it was clear that she hadn't expected that. "Sure," the girl responded in a puzzled tone, "I promise I won't do drugs."

"Good," he responded. Unfortunately, Mister Markham hadn't finished. "Miss Greenwood."

Anya gulped and then stepped up. "I apologize too Mister Markham," she said. "In my haste to do the right thing … I didn't stop to think how others might be hurt by my actions."

"I've been guilty of that a time or two in my life," her teacher confessed. "I trust you've learned from the experience."

"Yes sir," she replied.

"I don't care much for that future Miss Greenwood." Unbidden, the scene with Negi and Asuna in the World Tree Plaza sprang to Anya's mind. Only this time they were surrounded by all of her classmates, alive and unharmed. "Let's try to change it shall we?"

--

**A/N: And so my second arc is complete. Thanks for sticking with me. I'm going to be taking a break from Markham and company for awhile, but don't worry, I'll be back.**

**The chapter title and heading are again from "The Inferno." "A Christmas Carol" was written by Charles Dickens (not Dikkens the well-known Dutch author).**

**Strpce is a small town located in the south of Kosovo, near the border with the Former Yugoslavian Republic of Macedonia. While it is real, Camp Eagle is not. For the story, I placed the American base near Strpce; however the real base, Camp Bondsteel, was in the neighboring province of Urosevac. To my knowledge, no one from the 18th Communication Squadron supported operations in Kosovo. Since all branches of the US military were present in Kosovo, I have used different term particular to the various services. Thus airman refers to a member of the US Air Force and soldier would refer to somebody in the US Army.**

**A few foreign words/phrase are used. **

**Much - Romani for "friend." **

**Ite, missa est – Latin for "Go, it is sent."**

**Deo gratias – Latin for "Thanks be to God."**

**Instead of having an additional chapter with a teaser of the next arc, I thought I'd reward those who actually read my author's notes. Enjoy.**

**--**

**New Ostia, Mundus Magicus**

Brightly colored pennons furled and snapped above the Governor-General's Palace as a small transport rose gracefully into the air. Twin emblems of the Alliance and old Ostian coat of arms identified the craft as the governor's personal airship. Knights in black armor raised their lances in salute at the departing vessel while few of the scurrying officials and servants stopped to watch.

Kurt Goedel gazed out of the window as New Ostia spread out before him. Signs of rebuilding were scattered about the city, evidence of the near disaster that occurred during last year's Peace Festival. With the generous funding provided by the Mesembrian Senate, nearly all of the damage had been repaired. Work plodded on the new Ala Alba Arena, named for the latest heroes to "save" Ostia, but he was assured it would be ready in plenty of time for this year's festival.

Yes, New Ostia was recovering, but Kurt knew the danger was still there. The Mage of the Beginning, a spirit whose power created the Mundus Magicus and was destined to destroy it, had been neutralized for a second time. Few knew how close to annihilation they had come. If not for the valiant efforts of the Thousand Master's son and the boy's companions, the world would have been reduced to ashes. But who would be there to stop it the next time?

That there would be a next time, he was certain. As long as the vessel lived, the Mage of the Beginning could return and carry out her dreadful task. The plan to sever the gates and trap the Imperial Princess in the Old World was flawed; they would merely trade one sure destruction for another. Kurt had wanted to believe in the plan, but the mounting evidence couldn't be ignored any longer. Magnusson was a hothead who had gotten just what the man deserved; however, Arn had been right about what needed to be done. For the sake of the world, this Asuna Kagurazaka had to die.

Speeding over the barren wasteland that had once been a prosperous kingdom, the airship approached the ruins of Old Ostia. Five kilometers out, they were stopped by one of the Mage Council's security teams and questioned. Not wishing to antagonize the Alliance, the team chief swiftly cleared them to continue. "Do you wish an escort Governor Goedel?" the mage had asked.

"Despite my physical condition, that won't be necessary," Kurt answered and then pointed to the sheathed sword his squire held. "That is all the protection I require."

"Understood Governor," the robed man replied. "However, as long as you remain in the area of the old city, you'll have to report in every hour. Failure to do so will cause a rescue team to be sent in after you sir."

"You have the proper frequency to report in?" he asked the pilot who nodded in response. "Is there anything further?"

"Nothing else sir," the mage said as he saluted. "Good luck Governor Goedel."

"Yes, yes," Kurt remarked. "I daresay I could use a bit of luck."


End file.
